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Stood Up, Lazy Day
Jun. 7th, 2008 11:59 pmSaturday night, we had John the Ex-Night Auditor fill in (his girlfriend had a baby and he needed the dough like wow), and so I was free.
Though it sort of didn't do me much good. I had thought that Jeff the Room Service Guy and I had plans to go to The Brooklyn to use my $150 in gift certificates, perhaps followed by seeing The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Admiral Theater. We hadn't set up a time, but I'm pretty darn sure we'd at least saved the date.
So, even though I'd worked the night before, I got up rather early Saturday evening, called Jeff, took a shower, tracked down some nice-but-not-too-fancy clothes, got ready, and then...waited. And waited. By the time it hit 10:30, I gave up and called Pagliacci Pizza for delivery. I had myself some delicious high-end pizza and lemon sorbet, read a bit more, flipped channels, and just vegged. Since stupid Patrick the Night Auditor quit and the Replacement Auditor hasn't even begun training on the Front Desk yet, I'll be on this horrendous six-day-a-week schedule for at least a month.
On the other hand...overtime pay! Despite everybody's best intentions to get me out of work earlier than my usual ten hour shifts, nobody is actually disciplined enough to do so, which means I should be picking up a good 15-20 hours of overtime each week. I know I'll be glad of it when the paycheck shows up (iPhone?!), but logging the time is something of a torment.
Anyway, Saturday night, I also cleaned my room. This is a noteworthy occasion because my room was totally thrashed. The dust on my bookcase was so thick the shelves looked gray. I had nearly two months of reading on the floor by my bed. There were random boxes of stuff, clothes, old mail, and dust jackalopes, which is what you get when waist-length curly hair breeds with dust bunnies and starts roaming the hardwood.
Despite all the work to be done, I found myself unusually motivated to get everything clean. Every time I was tempted to stop and go do something else, I found myself with the willpower to keep cleaning instead. The idea of working six days a week for a month and then coming home to a dirty living space seemed intolerable, so I cleaned until it was clean. Now I rather like my room again!
When I was done cleaning, I rewarded myself with the latest Battlestar Galactica, which was pretty awesome. I vastly enjoyed Baltar yelling at the Hybrid and then chatting up the Centurion, who looked more and more like a dog hearing a high-pitched sound every time Baltar said something new about God.
I'm also loving Baltar's amazingly warped notion that his key role in the apocalypse that ended fifty billion people or so actually brought him closer to God, and, since God wanted to bring him close, well, the apocalypse was actually kind of a good thing. Yeah, Baltar was doped to high heaven (so to speak), and was suffering from some major blood loss, but it's still an awesome line of reasoning. A sort of Judas-Iscariot-as-talent-agent riff: "But Jesus, babydoll, I made you famous!"
Though it sort of didn't do me much good. I had thought that Jeff the Room Service Guy and I had plans to go to The Brooklyn to use my $150 in gift certificates, perhaps followed by seeing The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Admiral Theater. We hadn't set up a time, but I'm pretty darn sure we'd at least saved the date.
So, even though I'd worked the night before, I got up rather early Saturday evening, called Jeff, took a shower, tracked down some nice-but-not-too-fancy clothes, got ready, and then...waited. And waited. By the time it hit 10:30, I gave up and called Pagliacci Pizza for delivery. I had myself some delicious high-end pizza and lemon sorbet, read a bit more, flipped channels, and just vegged. Since stupid Patrick the Night Auditor quit and the Replacement Auditor hasn't even begun training on the Front Desk yet, I'll be on this horrendous six-day-a-week schedule for at least a month.
On the other hand...overtime pay! Despite everybody's best intentions to get me out of work earlier than my usual ten hour shifts, nobody is actually disciplined enough to do so, which means I should be picking up a good 15-20 hours of overtime each week. I know I'll be glad of it when the paycheck shows up (iPhone?!), but logging the time is something of a torment.
Anyway, Saturday night, I also cleaned my room. This is a noteworthy occasion because my room was totally thrashed. The dust on my bookcase was so thick the shelves looked gray. I had nearly two months of reading on the floor by my bed. There were random boxes of stuff, clothes, old mail, and dust jackalopes, which is what you get when waist-length curly hair breeds with dust bunnies and starts roaming the hardwood.
Despite all the work to be done, I found myself unusually motivated to get everything clean. Every time I was tempted to stop and go do something else, I found myself with the willpower to keep cleaning instead. The idea of working six days a week for a month and then coming home to a dirty living space seemed intolerable, so I cleaned until it was clean. Now I rather like my room again!
When I was done cleaning, I rewarded myself with the latest Battlestar Galactica, which was pretty awesome. I vastly enjoyed Baltar yelling at the Hybrid and then chatting up the Centurion, who looked more and more like a dog hearing a high-pitched sound every time Baltar said something new about God.
I'm also loving Baltar's amazingly warped notion that his key role in the apocalypse that ended fifty billion people or so actually brought him closer to God, and, since God wanted to bring him close, well, the apocalypse was actually kind of a good thing. Yeah, Baltar was doped to high heaven (so to speak), and was suffering from some major blood loss, but it's still an awesome line of reasoning. A sort of Judas-Iscariot-as-talent-agent riff: "But Jesus, babydoll, I made you famous!"
