I've got a siren on my tail

I've been terrible about LJing... again. I'm not even sure where I was last time. No matter, I suppose.

Basics:
- J+N are still occupying my damned living room. At least, not currently. But this little break will surely soon end, and they'll be back. I keep hoping that the end is nigh. That the talk of apartments closer to Pittsburgh will become taking an apartment closer to Pittsburgh. However, I'm not sure how well that's going to work, since J+N seem to be going out to drink an awful lot, and driving back and forth to Pittsburgh surely isn't helping them save money.
- B is still with us, though not currently. He's off to Uniontown with his family for Easter. He is not happy. His family loves him very much, but the ways in which they appear to show it are often very irritating for B. If my mother were up my butt about every little thing, I'd be unhappy spending time with her also, I imagine. Because as many times per diem she seems to call him to get on his nerves, I can only imagine how crazy she must drive him when he's in the same house. What she may not realise is that some of the problems that he has, she and his dad may actually contribute to more than alleviate. Meaning well isn't always enough.
- For two whole weeks, I worked 11 hour nights, giving me a total of 30 hours overtime on this paycheck. Easter weekend has been a weekend of indulgence and firsts and general unusual experience.

Some more detailed stuff:
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Now, dear SOL, please get it together and tell us what you want to do so we can maybe go to sleep sometime reasonable!

B has been gone all weekend, like since Thursday. J+N spent most of the weekend not here, thank dog, but of course, it's hardly mattered since I've worked all weekend, and they'll likely be here the whole time I'm off work for my two days. Supposedly J has gotten a job in Pittsburgh, and therefore will be moving out in the near future. Honestly, at this point, I miss my living room so much, the near future probably isn't near enough. I was never of the impression this was going to go on this long; or at least, I thought that room upstairs was meant to be converted into a usable bedroom for him if he were going to be around so long.

Friday morning, one of my managers, visibly stressed out of her wits, asked me if I could come in an hour early Friday night. I said, "Considering the shape of this back room, how about instead, I come in as early as I can drag my ass out of bed?" And so I ended up going in 8-7. The progress was very noticeable by Saturday morning, and the trucks for Saturday night were looking to be a manageable size, so in the interest of making more headway (especially with inventory looming), I went in Saturday night 7-7. And nearly halved the leftovers from the previous night. Last night, I went in 7-7 again, largely because I expected to make no headway with the three large trucks we were due, but hoping to at least maintain. I came to find that they'd gotten rid of a bunch of stuff during the day, so it all sort of worked out.

Tonight, I plan to go in 7-7 yet again, though, (as is one of my coworkers) as we have small trucks again tonight, which means that we can pulverise whatever leftover stuff there was from last night, after blowing out the new stuff that comes in on our small trucks, and then perhaps create storage space in the back room bins, or help whittle down some of the mess in the other areas of the store -- whatever the M.O.D. sees fit, I guess. By 7am tomorrow morning -- just Tuesday -- I should be at 39 hours for the week. After one hour into my shift on Thursday night, everything is OT. And at over $20/hr, I'll be glad to have it. Depending how things are looking, if I keep doing 7-7, I should end up with 15 hours OT. They'd let me go in on my days off if I wanted to, but I don't think I'll feel quite up to that. But I may carry on working 7-7 until inventory, which is... next Tuesday, I think? Which still means I can probably get another 9 hours OT next week, too.

My body has obviously just gotten used to working the 10-7s, because making them 7-7s, now I'm "feeling the burn". I'm aching well before the nights are over. I'm probably not going in on my days off because I'm going to need the rest. haha

Well, time to sleep and go back to my work(out). TGI"F"!

J and N have been sitting (well, lying) here watching the Oscars, and I've sort of also been paying attention. While they drooled over Channing Tatum, I thought to myself, "Screw him, I'd do Seth McFarlane!"

Anyway... J decided to meander into the kitchen to make pizza rolls for himself and N. (Kind of a surprise, actually, since he has sort of sent N into the kitchen to do his bidding for most of the day, like a lazy sack.) Shortly, he came back, a little huffy when he said, "We gotta fold the bed up." So of course, I simply texted BF (who's spent the whole time since he got up gaming with B in the kitchen) and asked "What happened?" No response.

But when I stepped out into the kitchen to feed the furkids, he chuckled at me, and then said something to the effect of, "You didn't hear?... I's a bitch. I told him to put the bed away." I mean, really, I don't mind him being around here. But get off your fucking ass... you're sleeping in our living room. You have the ability to have a bedroom if you work for it, which you said you wanted to do, and that's fine -- DO IT. Especially if you wanna lounge around in bed all damn day when you don't have something else to do. Otherwise, when you wake up, put the fucking bed away and return the place to a goddamned living room.

If you don't wanna do the work to have the space, then you need to respect the space you're using, and the other people who use it for its primary purpose. Otherwise, seriously, GTFO, dude. Ugh. I hate feeling like Bitchy McCuntface, but fuckin' A.

I'm getting a little fed up with J at this point, and by "a little", I really mean a lot. I just want my living room back. It wasn't so bad when he was doing well at keeping the place neat, cleaning, dishes, etc. But he's been slacking, in favour of going out drinking and whatever the fuck else he's been doing. And even then, it was somewhat tolerable, because he's at least been gone a lot. Lately, he's here more, and N has been here most of the time, too... although, I can't even complain about N. J and N came in this morning, J was drunk off his ass, and N was back behind him miming all sorts of shit. They got that sofa bed pulled out, N got J into it, and went into the kitchen and did the dishes.

The other evening, I was extremely irritated because it was my night off, and J and N had come in and had the sofa bed pulled out by SIX PM. WHAT? B and I wound up going for a fairly long drive before we wound up just coming back here and going the fuck to sleep. (I'd had that 40 hour awake stretch, followed by maybe five hours' sleep, so, I probably needed to sleep.) Today, they woke up around 2:30, as did I. I hoped they had plans for the night... they do. Sitting here, watching shit on our TV.

And I thought, "Well, I guess maybe I can deal with that, as long as that fucking couch goes into couch mode."

Shortly after that, J said to N, "I really don't think I'm even gonna fold up this bed. I'm probably not even gonna get dressed."

NO. For real, if they leave this house for a few like they're talking about, I'll fold that fucking couch up myself. I'm not being a superbitch yet, but the hints are starting to roll. We each have a TV table on which our laptops and other assorted things sit. His gets moved when that bed comes out and his things wind up on mine. Yesterday, I recaptured my table, tossing everything of his onto the love seat. When he cleared it off to pull it out, most of it didn't end up back on my table, but several things did. Something tells me that if I fold that bed up, whatever isn't mine on this table will end up back over there again.

Also this morning, when he said he didn't have to be back to work until Tuesday evening, I may have said, "So, if you have all this free time, I'd think you might see about starting on clearing out that other room like you keep saying you're gonna do." He looked at BF, who said, "I'm only waiting for you to tell me when you want to do it." B (who also doesn't live here, but makes a point to do things around here, I suppose, to "earn his keep") has been getting pissed off about him, too. That was pretty hilarious to me, him going off like that. I appreciated the show, I suppose. It at least ensures I know that I'm not overreacting; that it is as frustrating as I've made it out to be. BF hasn't really validated it much. I think he's feeling it, but he's been more silent on the issue. (That's usually more me.)

Something has to give. I want him out of my living room. If he wants to work on that bedroom idea, great. Otherwise, get the fuck out of my house. I want my living room back.

Monday night sucked at work -- it was my "Friday", therefore, that's normal. My nights tend to be worst on my "Mondays" (Thursdays) and my "Fridays" (Mondays). But since I took this weekend off -- BF and I are to go to Columbus Friday evening for a birthday gathering for one of our friends, who has been here twice for BF's parties -- tonight will sort of be a "Monday" and a "Friday", and I'm a little worried, because sometimes that seems to leave me cosmically gifted with the shittiest nights ever, when it happens. I guess we'll see. For now, I'm just slightly out-of-sorts, and drinking wine. (Possibly not the best combination, but ... I was a little thirsty, and for that I blame B.)

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My general mood is better than it was last week, but it's still lower than I'd like for it to be. There are still changes that could stand to happen. But since this is long now, I'll shut up. :)

It's getting close to time for me to go to bed -- for me to say that at 9am says a lot, really.

I stayed up a bit later yesterday than I ought have, and I had no luck falling asleep after going to bed. I lay there for a good hour, as BF kept snuggling closer to me. I kept trying to move away, because I was already warm, and he felt about 300°. He just kept coming closer and closer, until I was basically on a sliver of the edge of my side of the bed, with the big dog spread out between my feet, snoring like a chainsaw, and entirely immovable*. And a cat who wouldn't get the idea that now was not the time to be kneading at my feet.

Since J wasn't home, I thought I'd try crashing on the couch. I lay on the couch for another two hours or so, with no luck, until J came waltzing in. (I'd hoped maybe he'd had plans to stay away all day.) So, it was back up to bed for me. I managed to more or less avoid the advances of the over-warm BF by way of the strategic placement of a pillow between him and me, and I could still barely get the doped-up dog to move enough for me to get my feet into bed. It must've been nearly 5pm before I managed to fall asleep... and I had to get up at 9. And I pushed that snooze button until almost 9:30... which is a little much to be pushing it, when I have to be to work at 10. But I made it to work at 10:02, so no real big deal.

But the night was rough. It should, theoretically, have been easier than what it was, but for some reason, nothing is ever as simple as it should be. I won't make you suffer the bitching, though. I'm just gonna wrap it up and head to bed... but for me, tonight, TGI"F".

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* - The doped-up dog: Molly has had several seizures in the past couple weeks or so. One while BF was in the hospital, and what I thought might have been another one that didn't end up actually happening, and then three or four late last week over the span of a night, after which BF took her to the vet. She's been put on phenobarbital, which leaves her very stoned, at least until her system regulates.

Part of my failure to post has simply been a lack of private time lately. We reconnected with a friend, B, from whom we hadn't heard in quite some time. He'd been down about a lot of things, and we ended up having him down. And he was with us for a week and a half.  I'm not complaining. I've enjoyed having him around, and I'm actually a little sad that he's gone now.

 

Over the weekend, BF had a recurrence of a cellulitis in his armpit, and ended up visiting the ER twice. This morning, he saw his doctor, and was ultimately admitted to the hospital.  He was seen by a surgeon and they've decided on a surgical intervention tomorrow. I'm not sure yet when they'll let him go home. In the meantime,  I'm still going to work, since I really have no other choice. Even if he were legally my husband, it would be held against me at work, and I can't afford it. So while they're cutting on him tomorrow,  I'll have to go home and try to sleep, because I have to work tomorrow, too. And now, my lunch break is over.

I haven't posted here in days, but I think this is the first time in as long that I've actually touched a computer. I only have a few minutes anyway, so this is basically just a brief "Hello, I'm not dead" post. :)

Another one bites the dust. I'm officially 31. I had 117 birthday posts on my Facebook, not counting PMs, plus a handful of text messages, as well as people I wound up seeing out at the bar. I'm pleased to say that this year, I at least managed to keep up and respond to all of them. I have slightly over 600 people on my Facebook. I'm rather relieved, honestly, that I did not get posts from all of them. I would have appreciated each and every one, but I would never have been able to answer 600+ messages. At least, not without taking a few extra days playing catch up. As it were, I spent the first two hours I was awake today with my cellphone essentially glued to my hand.

I'm still moderately intoxicated after an abbreviated evening at There in Pittsburgh.

The week is not over. :)