Before we get into this I should admit that I might be a little bit on the drunk side. I'm also feeling a little maudlin, and you'll know this if you're my friend on the almighty Facebook. Yeah, I'm taking my status and making a post out of it. You should also just deal with the fact that I'm going to fuck up with the typing words properly part of being a blog writing sort. I do it often enough anyway, but this time I'm warning you. Feel free to rag on me in the comments.
I'm sitting at home, and by home I mean Momma's house. She's already texted me that she is staying elsewhere tonight. It shouldn't bother me, and on the levels that matter it doesn't. But there's the part of me that is tired of sitting here alone that is a little irritated.
Why am I sitting here at all, much less alone? It's part of the deal she and I made that allowed me to move back into what used to be the playroom. It's part of the deal where i don't earn enough at my job regardless of how many hours I get or how hard i work.
And I actually sort of like my job. I do have to deal with at least one douche on a regular basis, and there's the other day shift guy, a part timer, who has some issues that I try to avoid, and there's the . . .
Really, I kinda hate my job. I hate the hours, and I hate the pay. I hate the kitchen manager that treats everyone like we're idiots when we don't agree with the stupid shit he says and does. I hate that at my age and level of experience I'm still showing up at nine to sweep and mop the dining room and bar, that the owner may well bitch at me because his idea of enough paper towels and my idea didn't happen to agree with each other or because he thinks he smells something that he refers to as a sour mop even though the fucking mop head is as clean as I can get it and that sour smell is probably his own inability to just shut the fuck up and not work so fucking hard to find something to bitch about.
I hate that I drink too much and can't sleep till late which makes my morning shifts a pain in the ass so that I'm running out the door tired and unhappy only to come back home more tired and not wanting to be a reasonable person who cooks a decent meal for his kids and interacts with them because I really just want to lay down for a minute which turns into a nap that I awake from cranky and unreasonable.
I hate that I can't seem to concentrate on anything long enough, that i can't seem to find out what it is I can do that makes me happy. I hate that my only adult interaction is 95% people I don't actually want to see but that I can get along with at work and that my interaction with adults happens solely within the confines of my job.
I hate that I can't do something that benefits me because I can't figure out what that thing would be and that i can't get past the fact that other people might have to take care of their own shit, or so it seems, if i wren't here to cover their ass. I hate that i can't just make a decent living and be happy and reasonable and buy myself something nice once in a while.