Ok, ok, I'm not that old, but sheesh, I sure feel it today.
Week two of having job #2 (no, not that #2) is finally catching up with me. My legs and feet hurt, I'm way out of shape, and I'm pooped. I just about ripped DH's head off for robbing me of that last five minutes of sleep this morning. Oh, so do not go there. Not that. He simply thought that if he had to get up, I needed to share in his misery. At which point he soon found that the solitude of getting the bathroom first would be a good thing. I swear, I think I managed a full head rotation this morning.
I found out, much to my chagrin, that I am the oldest person working at the store. By seven years. 7. Freakin'. Years.
Dear Bob. I'm only 36 now. And a rookie.
Most of my other jobs I've been the youngest, or at least second to the youngest. *Sigh* I guess I certainly won't impress anyone with my college stories, even as goodie-two-shoes as they are.
Oh, and by the way, I need another week before Christmas. Could someone please pencil that in for me? It would be much appreciated.
I did find a small ray of sunshine yesterday. Our lawyer contacted the ex's lawyer on Monday to give him the info requested. The ex should get the "good news" sometime this week. Waa Haa Haa. Ain't payback a pip?
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