I just figured it out. Why I had a full body rejection of “no no no no they can’t close the refinery why why why crap” when I found out I am going to be jobless in 50 more days.
I don’t want to move.
I feel the again part is key. I move. Or, to be correct; I have moved.
I was just texting a friend who moved to Canada yesterday. Moved. To. Canada. Who the crap moves to Canada? Well, 2 of my close people, that’s who.
Anyway, he had pretty much been on the island his whole life; same with the other guy. I told him to enjoy that “start over” feeling; it is freeing as hell.
Then I thought, oh yeah. I don’t want to start over again. It takes 2 years. Every time I move it takes me 2 years to make friends, become accepted for being the weird person I am at whatever job I am doing, and just to feel part of the world around me rather than an interested observer. Two. Damn. Years.
At 13, I moved to England.
At 15 I was finally happy.
At 17 I moved to Ohio.
At 18 I went off to college
At 20 I was happy again–secure.
At 24 I moved to southern Illinois.
At 26 I had started to settle and make friends.
At 27 I moved to Chicago.
At 30 I was secure in job and settled.
At 31 I moved to St. Croix.
At 34 I am settled, happy, comfortable and the damn refinery decides to close.
So, the last 20 years. Too much moving.
Now, if the world implodes I understand I will have to move. I will do it and be okay.
Just knowing I have at least 2 years after I get somewhere else is just freaking exhausting.
So I’m going to bed. 🙂
So back when I was switching jobs and losing my vehicle I picked up a second job with über boss where I worked to get a truck. Truck was a utilitarian type vehicle which I ended up not needing so I lent it out to people who needed it.
The time came when über boss asked, “what’s the deal with that truck?” I shrugged and said, don’t know I lent it to so and so. Über boss banged his head on his desk a few times and told me to get it back and sell the damn thing.
Mmmkay. So, while I was in Jamaica truck was dropped off at my house where it sat for about 2 weeks.
I got a text on Friday from someone who knew someone who wanted to buy the truck. I said okie dokie.
They came by, drove it around, haggled a bit…gave me cash and off truck went to his new home.
I texted über boss and he told me not to spend all the money in one place. I replied, “don’t worry! I will make sure to get hookers AND blow.”.
Über boss replied, “that’s right.”
Which is why I love that man.
Bitch…Gun! So, while coming up with the name for this blog I asked my friend what she thought of the name “Squished Together” via text message. There was no immediate reply and I thought about it for 10 minutes and then bought the domain. I liked it, it made sense since I was going to be squishing two blogs together, and it was available. I was ever so pleased with my choice.
Approximately 2 hours later I was in Kmart listening to an audio book (in all seriousness, shopping has become much less annoying when I do it while listening to an audio book. I don’t have to listen to store muzak, I don’t have to listen to other people, I just zone out and purchase what I need and leave. Before you think I am too much of an ass please note I turn it off before I check out) and a text message came through to my phone. “It makes me think of your boobs.” huh?! what does? wait a second….SON OF A
BITCH GUN!! She is talking about my blog name…squished together, damn it!!!! She’s right. It does. *face-palm*
So here I am, putting it on the record…that was not my intention when I came up with “Squished Together”; but if it makes you laugh–enjoy!
…and what have we learned? ah yes, Heather should *not* take vacations. Well, correction–Heather can take time off; just don’t freaking go anywhere.
Enough of the third person crap; so–I went on vacation and it was ever so…well, fucking horrible is the only way to describe it. I went to Jamaica and while the destination wasn’t horrific (although it had its downsides–I shall share those later) it was more “let’s watch Heather’s world fall apart while she’s gone” (holy crap–why the third person? It’s like I can’t stop). So, as you may have read I learned that I will be jobless soon. Obviously this is not a great time to take a vacation but I pre-paid for it and would lose all the money…looking back, I should have just let the money go.
The first, and most horrific thing that happened is that my beloved Freckles (90 lb mutt) died. He was the dog who slept in bed next to me every night and while not a good dog; he was a very loved dog. He had epilepsy. His first seizure was about 4 months ago and they progressed. The two nights before I left for vacation he had seizures and kept trying to wander out of the yard. The morning I was to get on the plane I found him in a ditch. He was barely responsive; we got him in the car and the housesitter said he was going straight to the vet who was opening early just for Freckles. Everyone told me to go…I stupidly listened and handed my housesitter . When we landed in Miami the vet told me he was responsive and they were trying a new medicine. I was so relieved. I shouldn’t have been. Once we were in Jamaica I was assured that there was hope…2 days later I was told (literally) that he was a vegetable. I told them to put him down. My heart was broken but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fully grieve until I got home.
After landing in Jamaica and being rushed through the airport by my fellow travelers (please keep in mind I had not slept for 2 days) I lost $200 and my leather wallet.
…..to be continued.
Today I found out the hot guy at work was born in 1986…do you know how incredibly wrong and messed up it is that he is that good looking and was basically born whilst I was rocking fluorescent colors and those polyester parachute track suits…it just ain’t right.
In other news, I have me an admirer. While this is causing my eyebrows to rise just thinking about it—I have spent some seriously contemplative time on this. Current Admirer is Work Water Guy (WWG). WWG is a very nice guy who seems to think I am dreamy. Needless to say, this is confusing the crap out of me. The more you try to convince someone that you are not actually as nice as you appear the more they don’t believe you. The more you try to convince someone who has a crush on you that you are kind of freaky, a bit broken, incredibly needy, and while strong and great in an emergency—I tend to stress a lot during calm and steady times – the less they believe you and the greater they think you are. Yes, this sounds like a great strategy IF I were in any way capable of strategery in regard to ‘gettin’ a maaan’. I have successfully scared off a number of perfectly available and hot guys by asking them if we could pretty please have sex. The blunt approach is no-one’s friend and if you have the ability to play coy I recommend highly you do so (I tried it once for about an hour and it was way harder than I thought). Anywhoodle, I have not scared off WWG (yet) and was actually scared off myself (because hello! People don’t chase me; *I* chase them! Duh.) until I saw his calves the other day. Holy shizballs…he has some very nice legs. So now we shall continue the dance of texting and chatting. Except later, guess what I heard? Hmmm? Yeah. I heard he is a bum looking for a woman to take care of him. Well, holy crap. I’m good. Had that; looking for something different.
And thus I remain happily single. 🙂