Tuesday, July 7, 2009

The Summer Grind

If I have lead anyone to believe that I have nothing to do at work except work my Facebook Farm, then I have misled you. I have a good bit to do. Most of it is tedious and depressing right now, but maybe that's just me.

I woke up yesterday morning with a grade A headache. I think it might have been (be) a migraine of some sort, but although my doctor labeled my headaches migraines, they don't fit the models I've read about. This one was mostly on the right side of my head. It hurt to sit up and it hurt more to lie down. I took a shower, which helped while I was in the shower. I took aspirin, which helped until I got up again. Although the major pain dimmed, I still feel as if my head is full of very heavy steel wool. And once in a while, it feels as if someone is pulling pieces out through the back of my neck. And of course, there is the nail in the head feeling.

But it really doesn't hurt that much, so I am up and about today. That is not to say I am working very hard. I completed a payroll this morning (mine was included so you can see my incentive there.) I got into a battle of wits with the Wachovia bank website and lost. They tell me they are sending me an e-mail to authenticate my computer, but I didn't see it in the hour I waited.

This afternoon at my other job, I have completed three months of bookkeeping for a very small company. I have also had a lovely conversation with the 80-something year old lady from next door who brought me blueberries she had picked and told me about her life now and in the past. Although my boss may not feel that was time well-spent, I beg to differ. I also got a standing invitation to pick my own blueberries.

In addition to that, I've had conversations about the sucky economy, theory of small business, and how hard it is to come home from vacation with several other clients. I think that should count for something.

Maybe I should open a tea shop so that I can work while I sit and talk to customers. I'll have to hire a waitstaff, of course, because I spill things. I suppose I can keep my own books. If I get tired of talking to people (and you know I will), I can go back to the kitchen and cook or count inventory. Now all I need is a boatload of money and I'm off.

In the mean time, I suppose I ought to earn my meager wages. Or not. I wonder if my grapes are ready?

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