…or not. Got home from work around 6pm last night. Seems like no big deal until you figure that I left for work at 5:30 yesterday morning. Hung out with Stephanie and the kids, and watched some TV that I missed during the week. Drank too many beers (which means 3 or 4 for me). My fucking head hurts this morning. I went ahead and got up so that I could do a little work around the houes. I promised Chris that I would take him to see Sin City, so I bought tickets last night at Fandango. Shit, movie prices went up again since I have been. $6.50 for Matinee. I also have another computer to fix for someone. Have to do a win 98 reinstall after I back up some pictures and stuff. Then have another to work on. Had to replace the hard drive, and need to go down to the basement and dig up a damn AT power supply, her fan went out.
Unfortunately I only have one day off, then have to work two, then get another, then I go seven before I can take another day off. Not sure how I managed to get roped into it, but all of the middle and upper management are going to be out of town at a retreat Tuesday and Wednesday, so I get to run the damn division. That should be ok Tuesday, but Wednesday is going to be a goatfuck. Have to hit 9 stores in seven hours and make sure that the weekly paperwork is done, and close it out myself in a couple of cases. I also get my big delivery Wednesday, and of course Stephanie has class, so I have to be finished and picking the kids up by 3:40. I must be a dumbass for agreeing to run it those two days. I’m not even the senior manager. Maybe all total if you don’t count the three years that I spent at the corporate office, but that is besides the point.
Guess I will check my email and bank balance and get my ass moving.
This conversation is over.