It’s been a difficult week at work. Morale is low; everyone is on edge.
That’s why I am taking this weekend to relax.
I’m knitting and playing my SIMS. That’s it.
Okay, I might have done all the laundry. And unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher. And went to Richie’s gig Friday night. And roller derby last night. But my sleep has been deep, my days chill.
Hopefully everyone’s upcoming week is better than last week.
My work is going through a conversion. I have come across some special snowflakes this week.
Bless their little hearts.
Bless their little asshole hearts into teeny. Tiny. Little. Pieces.
Happy first day of summer!
I’m ready for Autumn.
The other night, I watched a documentary on Netflix about high heels. The film was supposed to “explore the intimate relationship between women and their shoes.” They interviewed designers Christin Louboutin and Manolo Blahnik; celebrities Kelly Rowland and Dita von Teese; and average women in New York and Paris.
The history of the high heel was discussed, as well as money, and even the shoe’s relationship with sex.
Here is where it gets tricky for me. As I mentioned last month, I can no longer wear heels. It’s just too painful.
I still appreciate a beautiful pair of heels, and both envy and admire women who are able to wear them. I have no problem with women who love heels and have sixty pairs or wear them whenever, wherever.
I don’t like the idea of heels being linked to sexiness and femininity. I know, I know, that’s their point.
I just don’t like the idea that me not wearing heels makes me less sexy, or less feminine. As Dita herself said in an interview, “You can’t dictate to a woman what makes her feel sexy.” Ever since I’ve been wearing flats, I’ve been feeling more comfortable, and a little more sexy. I’ve always felt sexiest when I’m at my most comfortable. Jeans, a tank top, and flats for me. And the idea that my boyfriend is going to leave me for some pretty thing in four inch heels makes me laugh.
But if that’s the future, then I welcome my impending spinsterhood with open arms.
Last night I learned to crochet. A woman named Suzanne (sp?) showed me the basics at Knit Night last night.
I learned to single chain stitch a border.
(for you non-fiber workers, look at the yellow and white at the very top.)
I can’t go into any more details because it will spoil the surprise.
Crochet uses a different set of muscles than knitting, and mine are crying uncle this morning.
I’m not usually one of those people bothered by Mondays. For me, it’s just another day of the week. Whatever.
But not today.
Oh, today was difficult. People were stupid, and I’ve found out that my company is going in a direction that I just don’t support.
I know I shouldn’t complain about work when so many people don’t have jobs. Maybe if I was able to move up (or even sideways) or made more money it wouldn’t be a big deal.
We are transitioning to a new way of doing things, and my assistant manager asked me if I would be with him during the transition. Not if I can find a better job. They aren’t really making it worth my while to stay. Sorry boss, but if I find a better job, I’m leaving your ass. As would anyone else in that same position.
Of course, I say all this now, knowing that if I was offered a better position I would probably stay.
Hypocrisy- I am full of it.