springading.com

Originally, I had started this post while doing laundry. Hence, the title. Since then, Jim insisted that he finish laundry up, despite the fact that he’s sick and really has no business doing it. Regardless, laundry is done. But I  refuse to change the title. Moving on!

Hope everyone had a good holiday. Well, everyone who celebrates any sort of winter holiday this time of year. If you don’t…well, hope you had a good weekend, anyway.

It was a good weekend for Jim and me, all in all. Friday night, Phil came over. Phil brought over Kung Fu Panda 2, which he and Jim watched while I picked up pizza and played on the Internet. I was fighting all I could to not give Jim his Christmas present early. See, right after work, I went straight to Game Stop and bought something I knew he’d been itching for: Assassin’s Creed Revelations. Jim, as it turns out, had money set aside for Christmas that I didn’t even know about, so the money I had earmarked for Christmas shopping? Yeah, he didn’t even touch it.

Therefore, present: Justified!

So they watched TV and played video games, while I tried to talk myself out of giving Jim his present early. Phil had barely left when I blurted, “Okay, so do you want your present now?”

There was a bit of back and forth, and we finally agreed to give each other one present. As it turns out, we both thought that the other had given us one gift because that’s all we could see. Well, we’re more alike than either one of us thought: I had his “good” gift hidden away (I’m so proud–I got it past him after work by sneaking it out of sight in my lunchbox) and he had my “big” gift hidden at his sister’s house. We agreed to give each other one because we couldn’t wait, so he got his game (which he was NOT expecting–the look on his face was priceless!) and I got this book.

Overall, we both had a good Christmas. My other gift to Jim was the second season of Supernatural. (We were missing seasons 2, 3, and 6. I figured someone would know to get the most recent–which I was right, his mother got it for him–but only I was privy to which seasons in the middle we were missing.) My big gift from Jim was actually a joint gift from him and his sister and her husband. And guess what it was? A BREAD MACHINE.

I’m excited. I’ve wanted a bread machine since I was something like 18 or 19 years old. I’ve already warned Jim that the next time we have pizza, I will have made the crust in the bread machine. HELL, YES. He and Phil can eat it and like it!

(Don’t know what it is with guys and their hatred of homemade pizza crust.)

Oh, but that is a little bit of a problem. I’m getting this bread machine right in time for my diet, which, incidentally, I started today. However, I’m thinking that food-wise, I might not be too bad off. I signed up on My Fitness Pal today, entered my calories, and easily came under the suggested amount of calories. I’m pretty sure my issue is with soda and coffees with lots of creamer, which I laid off of today.  So, my hope is that I can still (mostly) enjoy everything my new bread machine has to offer–and still lose weight.

I think the secret is moderation. Yeah, I know: Not news.

We got a lot of other great stuff. I got several skeins of yarn (YES, YES, YES!), a cordless vacuum cleaner (THANK GOD, my old one sucks and the cat hair is driving me nuts), a Scentsy (didn’t even know I wanted it until I had it), a hat, scarf, gloves, socks, a food processor (yay!), candles, and lots of lotions and soaps and perfumes.

Oh. OH. And one of the other presents Jim’s brother Robert gave us…let me just backtrack and tell you why it was perfect.

When Jim and I first started dating, he was living with his friend Karac, and I had just moved out of my sister’s to this apartment. My apartment was still a mess from moving, so I wasn’t exactly inviting company over. (I went on a few dates with one guy who tried to invite himself over. Wasn’t happening.) Jim was also embarrassed by his living situation–ugly bedroom, his roommate was always fighting with his then-girlfriend–so I was never in his place more than five minutes to pick him up for dates, and I never saw his bedroom.

Anyway, after something like six dates, I decided it was time to invite him over. We could drive all we wanted around town, but a new relationship that is ready to go to the next level needs a certain degree of, ah…well, privacy, heh. So, finally, one night, when I was dropping him off at work after a date, I asked, “Hey…do you ever want to come to my place? Maybe watch a movie or something?”

Jim was surprised. “Sure!” he told me. “You know what? I just rented Tropic Thunder. I’ll bring that over. We can watch that.”

So that was the first time Jim ever came over. I cleaned up a storm that afternoon. He brought Tropic Thunder over that night. But, ah…we didn’t watch much of it. Oh, I remember hearing it play in the background. I also remember going all the way through and then playing again. But the movie? Yeah, we didn’t really watch it. Not that night anyway.

That was also the night we decided to make ourselves official as a couple.

Fast forward to last night. Robert hands us this smallish package. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen this before, or if you’ll even like it,” he admitted. “But–I don’t know. I saw it and, for some reason, I was thinking that this was it for you guys–the perfect gift.”

Jim opened it and we started laughing. Yup. It was Tropic Thunder.

Sweet, no? Anyway, I’m going to wrap this up and find something else to eat. I’m gonna grab an apple. I’m not particularly hungry, but I came in with few enough calories that My Fitness Pal is warning me about my body possibly going into starvation mode if I don’t try to meet the 1200 calories. Who’da thunk that would be an issue?

I’m on my second cup of coffee, and I know I’m going to regret it later. The past week or so, ever since the scary symptoms I had a few weeks ago, I’ve been trying to monitor what I eat and drink, see what sets off alarms, and it seems that I’m getting reflux symptoms after caffeine. Still, it’s still early-ish, I’m tired, and I want to be coherent enough to write something before Jim gets up.

So, it’s been a week since the last post. In that time, I found that my work had ALL the wrong 2012 benefits listed for me (they basically had me listed has not having insurance at all for next year); I called the Employee Services people and gotten it corrected (our peeps are so nice, so that was a bonus); I got a small raise (WOOT); and I actually spent Saturday doing stuff.

This Saturday was so much busier than most Saturdays. I cannot lie: I pretty much do nothing on the weekends. Since Jim quit his job and went back to school full-time, I don’t even do laundry or shopping anymore. It was nerve-wracking at first, especially when bills were so tight, to turn shopping over to Jim. Still, I held back and told myself he had to learn how it worked.

And WOW. I’m so freakin’ proud. Jim struggled a little bit the first time, but he’s done great since. I always budget for $100 per week for groceries, which we never spend, but I rather overshoot. The last time he went groceries, he spent about $110. “Oh no,” I thought. “How could he go over budget?”

Um, no, Spring. That was $110 for two weeks worth of groceries.

Okay, I totally went on a tangent there. My point was, we had money left over to actually do stuff on Saturday.

First thing: Jim paid his dad back some of the money we owe him. I said that we actually had enough to pay his dad back completely, but Jim pointed out that we hadn’t even started Christmas shopping. There’s a good chance that we’ll be able to finish paying his dad off by January though.

Second, I had lunch with Tracy, Eva, and Darren at O’Charley’s yesterday. They’re some people I work with. We all used to sit by each other, but since then, Darren has been moved to a different unit, and Tracy and Eva were part of the lucky few to get selected to be able to work from home.

I was a little out of my element, since I’m so rarely social, but it was worth it, since I don’t get to see Tracy and Eva anymore. They’re doing great, loving being able to work from home. Yeah, if I ever get my own place around here, I’m totally going to look into doing that. But our work has very specific criteria your home has to meet before you can work from home, such as having your own office with locked drawers. (Keep in mind that we handle people’s personal information, so security is a must.) Needless to say, I have neither.

But I digress. Part of going out to lunch and catching up meant that I was caught up on office gossip. I know–it’s kinda weird that people who work from home know more about what’s going on at the office than I do. But at work, I pretty much keep my earbuds in all day and just work. I mean, that’s what I’m getting paid to do. So, no, I never know what’s going on. I got to learn all about it over a plate of nachos, who is getting divorced, who is having an affair with whom.

(I have to say, the big one that is apparently going around the office…it floored me because it involved someone that I would have never expected it from, someone I actually respected and thought was one of the nicest people in the world. Guess it goes to show that we’re all human, and even nice people occasionally will do awful things.)

Anyway, after lunch, I came home to Jim. We went to Hobby Lobby. I bought more yarn. YAY. Came home, played a little Fable 2. I’m FINALLY starting to get into it. The key? Actually learning what I was doing. Oh, I still don’t know totally what I’m doing, but I’m getting better, and it makes me enjoy the game more.

However, while I was playing the XBox, Jim started getting texts from his friend Ben, warning Jim that someone he detests has managed to weasel her way into their D&D group, despite Jim’s protests about her playing, despite the fact that she is very well aware that she’s not really wanted there. It would be one thing if Jim was the only one that dislikes her, but he isn’t. Not by a long shot. So Jim is pissed because, apparently, he’s the only one who has the backbone to tell her no (she originally tried to get into his Spelljammer game), and now he’s debating quitting the D&D game.

That bit of news put a damper on the evening. “Jim, let’s just do our own game when Matt’s is running,” I suggested.

“I want to play in a game, I don’t want to DM everthing!”

“Then teach me to DM!”

Jim just shot me a look. Even I knew that was a long shot. I get so self-conscious while playing. And I barely know how to play; DMing is a long ways off. As in, maybe in another lifetime…but certainly not this one.

Luckily, we were distracted by BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“Are those drums?” I asked. We went to the window and looked toward the middle school. The band was out. “Hey–is today the Lights Fantastic Parade?”

It was, and we decided that was the perfect distraction for Jim’s gaming woes. We decided to walk, since it was in the 60s earlier that day. Maybe not the best idea, as the wind picked up by the time we got there. By the time we sat down, we were freezing.

The parade was…eh. What do you want? It’s not that big of a town. Also, the toddler behind me kept kicking me in the back. “Stop kicking the lady,” said the woman next to him, who, I deduced from the conversations I overheard, was his grandmother. His mom was on the other side and just ignored it completely. I gritted my teeth during the whole thing. Next year, we’ll bring chairs.

Anyway, during the parade, some girls were giving out flyers to a new restaurant called Evelyn’s on the strip. It looks like they’re just starting out–not a ton on the menu yet–and most of the menu was meat-based. I don’t think most soul food is vegetarian friendly, anyway. But while I’m no longer a vegetarian, I still don’t like a lot of meat.

(Sidenote: I don’t think I even mentioned the no-longer-a-vegetarian thing, did I? After being a vegetarian for 14 years, I’ve stopped. The reasons why I stopped is two fold: 1) we have saved money by having Jim and I eating the same meals–we simply couldn’t afford to keep doing it the way we were doing it, and Jim as not going to be a vegetarian, and 2) after the second miscarriage…well, I want to rule EVERYTHING out about why it’s happening. I know you can get enough protein being a vegetarian, but not the way I do it.)

Still, I don’t like much meat at all. Everyone acted like if I would “just eat a little bit of meat again,” it would all come flooding back and I’d be devouring every animal in sight. My cats would start to look good even, heh. But, nope. For the most part, I don’t like the taste of it. There was some meat on my nachos at my lunch with my co-workers (I immediately wished I had ordered it without), so I didn’t want any for dinner. I stuck with the mac ‘n’ cheese.

WOW. It was really good. It even rivaled my own macaroni and cheese, and I have to say–I make damn good mac ‘n’ cheese. (Two kinds, actually. The regular kind and the Tex Mex kind.) I can’t remember what Jim got, but he was shoveling it in so fast, I thought he was going to choke. “This is SO GOOD,” he said. “This is the BEST…Oh my god, we’ve got to come back.”

And we will. Providing that we can manage to keep funds up.

So, yeah, if you’re the Carbondale area, check out Evelyn’s, give ‘em your business. The service is really good, too.

Jim couldn’t eat everything, though (SO MUCH FOOD), so we walked home. By then, we were freezing because of the wind, and it started to drizzle by the time we made it back to our apartment. Jim hopped in the shower, and then he put in Carnivale, which we traded with his Aunt Donna for Justified. We watched the first two episodes of Carnivale, and I have to say, I think I’m going to like the series a lot. The cinematography is great, and it’s got…mood. I’m all over the moody stuff, heh.

Anyway, it’s after 11 now. I probably should see if Jim wants to wake up, since he doesn’t like to sleep in too late on the weekends. Not sure what we’ll be up to today. Sadly, no Walking Dead tonight–yeah, that mid-season break is kinda lame–but I guess I can just use that time to knit more dishcloths with the yarn I bought.

I started the month with three days of PTO; I’m now down none.

One day was used for Jim’s birthday. That was fine. I had planned on that.

Then last Tuesday, I started getting all the symptoms of a migraine. I refused to go home early, but I did have Jim pick me up after 8 hours rather than doing the overtime I had planned. The migraine lingered for a bit, so I ended up taking Wednesday off to recuperate.

So, there was one day left of PTO that I was hoping to cling onto, since December is just around the corner. I had wanted to keep it because you never know when a snowstorm is going to hit, and as we all know, my little car slides just at the thought of snow.

And then last night happened. Went to bed, feeling fine, around 10:30, right after Hell on Wheels. Woke up about an hour and a half later with scary symptoms: Back pain. Shallow breathing. Nausea. Heart burn with chest pain.

Yeah, that last one scared me the most.

Jim will be the first to tell you that I don’t usually have problems falling asleep. He’s actually a little bitter about it, I think, because he always has trouble sleeping. But last night, I was in so much pain, that I was shuffling around a lot, just trying to find a more comfortable sleeping position, throwing covers around because I felt hot, and Jim did a first ever in our entire relationship.

He moved to the couch.

But now he couldn’t sleep either. I had told him my symptoms. Normally, I don’t worry a whole lot about my health, but even I was getting nervous about these symptoms–especially because this isn’t the first time I’ve had them. And now he was worried as well.

I took Ibuprofen, Tums, a bath. Nothing seemed to work, although the bath did help my back. But the only thing that seems to help, as it did last time, is time.

So I ended up using that last bit of PTO, figuring there was no way I was going to make it even 8 hours in an office chair, much less my planned 12, if I couldn’t even get comfortable in my own bed, and working on an hour and a half of sleep is a bad idea. Also? If they caught wind of my symptoms, I’m afraid they’d call an ambulance, as has happened to others in the past. I can’t afford an emergency room copay right now, and even if I decided that I really need to be in the ER, I don’t want it to be the hospital they would send me to.

I’d rather stay here and go to the ER if I decide it’s necessary and go to the hospital I choose.

So I’m home, but man, what a crappy night. I feel bad because Jim missed almost all his classes, partly because he didn’t get any sleep either and partly because he was worried about leaving me alone. Even when I took a bath, he lay awake, worrying.

Also, part of the crappy night was telling Jim that while I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t seem to notice I’m overweight, and it’s very sweet that he bought me those Christmas Tree cakes because they’re my favorite…it needs to stop. Regardless of whatever’s going on with my body, I’m pretty confident these symptoms are weight-related. I need to lose weight. It’s time for me to start eating like a grown up.

Kinda sucks because he just bought me a whole box of Cap’n Crunch. Now I’m thinking maybe I should hope for snow in December. Because now without PTO, I’ll actually try going into work, get into an accident, and die. Because, really, is a life without Christmas Tree cakes and Cap’n Crunch worth living? I mean, really?

Even with a day off in the middle of this week, it’s been a long week. It’ll be even longer because I’ve opted to work overtime tomorrow, but to be honest, not having to cram 10 hours of overtime in 5 days is nice.

And when I’m tired, I just think of this man:

This man needs an ed-u-ma-cay-shun!

My boy toy is in college and needs that degree. But he doesn’t need any lessons giving me the old stink-eye to get me out of bed on a Sunday morning.

(OMG, he’s so cute.)

Other sources of inspiration come clad in fur:

Gremlin helping me try to figure out my digital camera.

Last weekend, I became obsessed with trying to get better with my digital camera. As you can see, Gremlin tried his best to help me.

Gremlin is giving me the FAIL! look.

As you can tell by the above blurry photo…I’m not good with my digital camera. Sorry, Gremster. You’re still the master.

Anyway, last weekend was a pretty good one–but it didn’t come without an impact.

Jim decided I needed to go out for a change. On a whim, he took me to Michael’s in O’Fallon to buy some yarn. I’d wanted to make Gremlin a cat bed for a while because the poor thing has been pitiful since Emmy peed on his and ruined it. And Gremlin, being the little trooper that he is, kept climbing into empty Coke boxes and sleeping in them.

Anyway, Jim knew that seeing Gremlin sleeping like a HOBO in empty Coke boxes broke my heart into a millions pieces (yeah, I have a heart…weird, I know), so he insisted that I buy some yarn. It was a wicked afternoon. By wicked, I mean delightfully wicked, that we were being bad. We were wasting about a half a tank of gas that I hadn’t budgeted for this little trip, we ate at Arby’s, for which I also hadn’t budgeted, and I bought $15 for 2 skeins of blue and brown yarn. Guess what? I didn’t budget for that either.

We came back and between that day and the next, I made this:

Gremlin's new pad.

Okay, so it’s more of a pad with a lip on it than a bed. As it turns out, those 2 skeins of extra bulky yarn were not enough to give it higher sides. Still, I plopped it on the ground, figuring it’ll have to do for now. It’s gotta be better than a Coke box. And guess what? HE LOVES IT.

So do Piper and Emmy, though. Piper’s next on my list. Emmy, since she is the one who PEED IN EVERYONE’S BEDS, can wait. Hmph.

Anyway, actually getting out of the house, driving, and getting something that I wanted for a change–and ask Jim, the last time I actually bought myself something that wasn’t grocery related was sometime in June, and it was yarn for a baby blanket–this was something I really needed.

While I made Gremlin’s so-called bed, Jim carved our pumpkin:

Our first pumpkin together.

Yup, this is our first pumpkin together. We had meant to get one last year, but Jim’s nana died on Halloween–I think it was Halloween, or it might have been the day before–so we never got one. Also, subsequently, because we were so busy with the wake, I never did make Jim that birthday cake I had promised him.

Speed through the week–moves at work, new/old cubicle neighbors, work eval (I’m doing good!)–and we get to yesterday, Jim’s birthday, where I finally realize the impact of our little fun last weekend.

So, yesterday, I had the day off. I took it off just to work on Jim’s birthday cake, buy his present, get ready for his special birthday dinner…all that good stuff. Jim went to school because guess what? They don’t let you out for your birthday, heh.

So I dropped him off, got home, and the first thing I did was checked our bank account.

The amount in the bank wasn’t so horrible. But I had mailed out a couple of bills a few days ago that hadn’t been cashed yet. Figure that amount from what the bank thinks I have.

Bad. Bad. As in I couldn’t even afford Moe’s bad.

Panic. Panic big time. Seriously? How could we have this little after bills? I know we spent a little last weekend, but that can break us?

The answer is yes. It can. I should know better to ever think I can spend $15 on myself. (Or Gremlin.) Good thing I froze my Warcraft account.

I tried to calm down. I knew I was getting paid at midnight, but did I want to risk assuming one of those checked wouldn’t get cashed today?

I checked one of the places that I sent money to. I found an old check, noted the date I had written on it, and saw that it took them about 6 days from that date to cash the check. This last check had only been mailed three days ago. I decided to risk it. But don’t think that it didn’t give me an ulcer.

And if I’m gonna risk it, I’m gonna risk it big. How? I got Jim Batman Arkham City, that’s how. Then I spend $20 on dinner, all while praying that at least one of those checks do not clear within the next 8 hours.

Got everything, came home. Made Jim’s cake. I don’t have round cake pans anymore (another “lost during the divorce shuffle,” I’m guessing), so I have to make do with this rectangle pan whose appearance neither Jim nor I can explain. We both say we didn’t come into the relationship with this pan, and yet…there it is.

So, the recipe says for this 13×9 pan, I need to bake it at least 40 minutes. I happened to check it at 32. “That looks done to me,” I said, confused. I noticed the temperature was above the 350 I had put it at. I took the cake out and checked it with a toothpick. It came out clean.

After a lot of prodding, I finally managed to get the cake out of the pan, but not fully intact. Now, it’s been a while since I’ve made a cake, I’ll grant you, but I’ve never really had problems. I was already annoyed that my cake was breaking apart on me, but when I ate one of those crumbs, I was even more annoyed. It was pretty dry.

I threw it away, picked Jim up, went to watch him play Warhammer at Castle Perilous, read A Dance with Dragons.

Came back home. Tried second batch. Meanwhile, Jim tries the frosting that’s already been made and concurs with my assessment: The frosting is damn good.

The second batch was bad all because I was completely stupid. “3 1/2 teaspoons of baking soda,” I read aloud–as I grabbed the salt. You know how that went.

By now, I’m tired, my feet hurt, and I am furious. I have a breakdown. Jim calms me down. I stand up, ready to try again.

Mix everything up. Wait for oven to preheat to 350.

Wait. It’s at 370. Move the knob down a notch. Check 10 minutes later. It’s at 325.

“Oh,” I groaned. “I forgot…” Our oven doesn’t do 350. It will go above or below, but it will not cook at 350. I put the cake in, already disheartened. I’m hovering over the stove. After it cooks 20 minutes, I’m checking it every five. The minute the toothpick comes out clean, I’m on that thing, pulling it out of the oven.

This time, I had cooked it in a glass pan. I didn’t like how flat the other one had made it. We flipped it over, and we immediately noticed 2 things. 1) This cake didn’t want to slip out easily either, and 2) One side was burnt, while the other was barely browned.

“DAMN IT,” I said. “I completely forgot that our oven doesn’t cook evenly.”

Yes, folks, I did know this. When I cooked bread a couple months ago, I commented to Jim that I didn’t think our oven cooked evenly because one loaf was drier than the other. Want proof that your oven is doing such a thing? Cook a rectangular cake.

So I knew this about our oven…and forgot. I wish I hadn’t forgotten. Maybe I would have thought to ask Jim’s mom to borrow her oven. This should tell you how very little baking we do.

Jim asks that I frost the cake anyway so we can try it. I do. We each had a piece. Jim insisted it wasn’t so bad, but I thought it was awful. My piece was burnt and had this terrible texture. I’ve never cooked anything so terrible in my life. I actually felt humiliated.

“At last you tried,” Jim said, trying to be helpful.

“But I’ve never actually tried and failed,” I complained. “Not with anything I actually cared about. I’ve never failed at baking!”

Jim tried to console me, telling me that it wasn’t my fault. I can’t fight an oven that doesn’t cook evenly. It doesn’t stop me from feeling like a complete failure, though. And what’s worse? Because I made three batches of cake batter, I used most of the milk, so we didn’t have enough milk to make the soup I had planned on making Jim for dinner. We ended up ordering pizza instead, on the credit card that had a little bit of money left on it.

So yeah, I’m pretty sure I ruined Jim’s birthday. But at least he can take solace in Batman, I guess.

So, here are the lessons for the week:

1. Budget for entertainment because if all you do is work, you WILL need something just for you. Even if it’s only for yarn, lunch, and gas.

2. Do your best not to live in crappy apartments with crappy appliances. But if you must, try not to go too crazy on the yarn so you can move ASAP. Preferably in a place with an oven where you can actually cook something at 350 .

3. Husbands are great pumpkin-gutters, but cats are terrible photography instructors.

They’re also bad about reminding you to go to bed because you have work in the morning. Gah! Good night. Here’s hoping this Friday will lead to another awesome weekend–but easier on the wallet.

No, the title of this post has nothing to do with the book that Jim hates so much. It has to do with my freakin’ life. I’m sure everyone is sick of me complaining about money, but hell, I’m sick of  complaining about it.

It’s not that we can’t pay our bills. We can.

It’s not that our bills aren’t getting paid on time. They are.

It’s not that we can’t eat. We do.

It’s that I’m working 10+ hours overtime a week and there’s no extra. It seems like overtime should mean plenty of leftovers, and I think if I wasn’t trying to get so much extra stuff done, there would be extra. But, three days ago, I once again had to warn Jim to be careful with money. Our bank account was getting low.

I honestly don’t know how I can swing paying Jim’s dad back before Christmas and getting everyone Christmas presents. Do you know how many people we would have to buy for, just for those living in southern Illinois alone? A bazillion! I. Cannot. Afford. It. I. Cannot. Do. This. I can get bills paid and food bought, but barely. I cannot even afford to replace my holey socks after my paycheck has been divvied up.

I wish people would just let me quietly sneak past the Christmas season without celebrating it. But you know how families are.

And with working all this overtime, the other area where I feel like I’m being nickel and dimed to death is in the energy department. (Yeah, I’m stretching the metaphor a bit. But I’m tired and cranky right now, so y’all just have to deal.) I’m so tired all the time. I need to finish craft projects I have, but I’m just too worn out at the end of the day. And worse? My friend Meagan is in town, and one of the reasons we won’t be meeting is because I have to do overtime tomorrow, and I already know I’ll have no energy to be social. Being so introverted means that socializing is already an energy drain on me, no matter how much I like a person. Socializing after working 6 days a week? Not a good idea.

I found this out the hard way when I met Paul last week, after having pulled yet another long week. I might have been firing questions at him, but that was me on autopilot. I was exhausted.

Despite all this, work itself is actually going pretty well. For now, anyway. I had two nice surprises this week.

One, I found out just a couple days ago. They’re testing out how bigger monitors affect productivity. I’ve often thought a bigger monitor would be awesome because I constantly waste time moving my bazillion windows around. Well, apparently, the test run they did in another department showed that bigger monitors net better productivity–up to 20% more. My supervisor assured me that my productivity is fine, but I’ve been selected as one of the people to get to test the bigger monitors in our department.

SWEET. I’m very excited about it. We’re going to be moving desks (yet again) at work next Friday, and it’ll be waiting at my new desk.

The other cool thing, I found out about on Monday. My supervisor called me up to his desk, and I was baffled as to why. I soon found out: I got a “gift of appreciation” (which was a Visa gift card) and a certificate. My boss said it was being given to me for several reasons. One, they feel that when they handed me one of the special projects I’m on, I really took ownership of it. I’ve notified them of several issues and updates that even the higher-ups weren’t aware of. We’ve had a couple of workflow updates based on information I’ve given them. And here I was worried about being a pest!

The second thing my supervisor told me was that they were aware that I get flipped to work different books of business a lot–but I “never complain and always do a good job of it.”

Awesome! Usually, never complaining gets me mostly ignored. It never has gotten me a gift card. I was excited about the gift card, but I didn’t really know what to do with it. I was thinking of getting an oil change.

Yes, my life has gotten that lame.

So I was thinking of what on earth to do with the gift card when Jim and I came home to a note on our door. The letter was regarding our cable/ISP. Our building is switching to Mediacom.

Okay.

They’ve given us a listing of channels that will come with Mediacom. No HBO. Which means…no Game of Thrones in the spring. If we want it, we’ll have to order it.

Jim started to get mad. But there was more.

With the switch to Mediacom, that means we will no longer have our current ISP, Goldentree. Although I guess their name is Guestek now..? That’s what it said in the letter. But getting back to the point, currently, I don’t have a monthly payment. I think it’s included in the rent, which, I will have you know, is crazy-high, but I always justify it because utilities are included. Anyway, the letter advised that we would need to make arrangements with our Internet provider because Guestek would no longer be available. So we’ll have to switch to Mediacom–and welcome yet a new monthly bill that I hadn’t expected.

Jim flipped out. “You’ve got to be kidding me? So after all this–TV with less channels and now getting a bill for our Internet–we’re basically paying more for less?”

“Sounds like.” I handed him the gift card. “Here. Go buy a game.”  Not like I was going to do anything fun with it anyway. Fun? Who has time for that?

“You sure?” he asked.

I nodded. If I work just one more hour of overtime–maybe two–it should get me the oil change.

Yup. Nickel and dimed and overtimed.

And now I’m going to bed. Because, so far, nobody’s figured out a way to charge me for that.

How my co-workers learned that you should never suddenly switch topics on me at 7:30 in the morning:

Angela: Did you see the new Phantom of the Opera or the old one?

Me: New one, I think. And I was reading these Amazon reviews, and you know what? I don’t get these girls who think the Phantom is romantic! He’s a creepy guy in the basement who’s a control-freak. The moment that girl starts getting interested in someone, he kidnaps her! He doesn’t give her a choice about anything. These girls obviously have never been with a control-freak. There’s nothing romantic about it.

Steve: Well, you know, he didn’t really live in a basement, it was more like a dungeon…

Me: See? A REALLY COOL BASEMENT. What’s he whining about? It’s nicer than my apartment.

Heather: Have you read the book? The Phantom is actually an old guy, so it’s even more gross.

Steve (suddenly standing over the cubicle wall with a box of candy): Hey, want some sugar? Have some sugar. I’ll be your sugar daddy! Have some sugar!

Me (startled by the sudden change of subject): Huh? Where’d you get all the candy?

Steve: It’s my birthday this weekend.

Me: Nice. No, thank you.

Steve (pretending to be offended): Well, FINE, then.

Me: What? Do you WANT me to eat your sugar?

Angela (laughing): OH, MY GOD, Spring, you didn’t just say that!

Steve: I don’t know, Spring, do you WANT me to be your Phantom?

Me: No…no, that’s okay…thanks…

Sadly, I was so tired this morning, it took a couple of minutes of Angela and Steve laughing at me for me to realize what I had said.

I’m pretty sure I was red for most of the day.

This week was a good week. Another niece had a baby. Went to Jim’s family reunion. We were the most recently married, so we won a peppermill with different kinds of pepper to be used in it. Awesome! I’ve always wanted a peppermill. Went to Jim’s mom’s to see his aunt and cousin. Got belated birthday giftcards, one to Chili’s and the other to Houlihan’s.

Jim and I have already planned on using one of those this weekend. Oh my god, I’ve missed eating out.

A really wonderful thing that we got was from Jim’s aunt. It was a belated wedding present–a check. A check, might I add, that covered the rest of Jim’s school books (we couldn’t afford to get them all) and will pay for his calculator for his math class, too. HUGE WEIGHT off our shoulders, let me tell you. Now the extra money I’ve been making from overtime will be shoved over into savings to save up for new tires instead.

Jim and I have been noticeably less stressed since we got that. Someone is getting a thank you card.

What else? I’ve been cooking a lot. Cookies, pancakes, bread, and brownies–all from scratch, no boxes here! Cheaper to make it yourself. Besides, I miss cooking. Know what I miss even more? A big kitchen to cook in. But at least I have an appreciative husband to eat all this stuff.

Oh, yeah, something I’ve failed to mention: Jim is off the Chantix–he’s been a non-smoker for over two months–but he is now eating a ton. It may sound odd, but it makes me happy. I always hated that I could actually outeat him. Now I can’t keep up.

That’s not the only appetite of his that’s gone up. BOW-BOW-CHIKA-CHIKA-BOW-BOW. (That’s supposed to be porn music, not a weird puppy chow jingle or something.) Needless to say, we’ve been a very happy couple lately.

And you know what was a really nice way to end a really nice week? This link, posted by my friend Paul on his Tumblr. He has to know that I’m going to totally repost an article called “10 Badass Women from Fantasy Literature,” ESPECIALLY when, right at the top, it features one of my favorites from Game of Thrones, Arya Stark.

One could argue that Arya is a little girl, not a woman. I’d like to see how well you argue with Needle up your nose.

Anyway, this reminded me that I had been thinking about writing my own list of my favorite women in sci-fi/fantasy for a while now. (Hm, that seems like a very Paul-like thing to do. Maybe he’s a bad influence on me!) I’ve never written it, though, because it would be hard to do a top 10 or anything like that. I mean, I could come up with ten favorites just from Babylon 5 and Buffy the Vampire Slayer alone.

Still…someday.

But not tonight. Tonight is for sleeping. Tomorrow is for overtime.

This week may have been good, but I didn’t say it was done.

That’s all I can tell myself today: DON’T PANIC. I tell that to myself between nail-biting and panic attacks, though. So, sorry Hitchhiker’s Guide, but it’s obviously not doing me any good.

If you haven’t been following, I’ve been slammed with a lot of bills this month. I also found that I have waaaaaay less money in my account than I thought I would have after bills. I frantically texted Jim this morning, telling him to not use the debit card for anything like, God forbid, food. Because more than likely, we didn’t have enough money to cover it.

Apparently, all the eating out we did last week due to having a broken fridge has taken its toll.

But, thankfully, we have a lovely thing called a savings account. Money shuffled around, problem solved. Well, not exactly, but we can get by. And I get paid the day after tomorrow. There will probably be more shuffling around with bills, but hey, at least there is no shortage of overtime at work. At least not lately.

Work has been another ball of stress. Recently, they’ve put almost all the written staff on the phones because phones have been so crazy. When you go from never having to take calls to taking calls almost 8 hours a day, that can really mess you up.

So far–knock on wood–I haven’t been one of the people put on the phones. It turns out one of those “special projects” that I’m on has gotten so, um, ”special” that the VP has taken notice, and now those of us who work on that project are considered “resources that cannot be tied up on the hotline.” I believe that’s how my supervisor put it, anyway. I’m relieved, but just hearing my co-workers having to take calls on the hotline all day stresses me out, so I just put in my earbuds and crank up the volume on my MP3 player. I don’t know how I used to do it 40 hours a week less than a year ago.

Also, because I like my co-workers, I wish they didn’t have to be on the phones either. Luckily, they’ve been having to spend less and less time on the phones lately, so that’s good. Especially because, with them on the hotline, written work is piling up, and now we’re getting behind in the written area. But hey! That means more overtime for me. Woot, woot.

Okay, so, wow! That was boring! Sadly, work and bills are pretty much the only things on my mind lately. Oh, and the 10 pounds I’ve gained since the miscarriage. That’s what happens when you resume drinking soda.

Speaking of the miscarriage, I had labs done yesterday and saw the doctor today, and I still have pregnancy hormones in my system. When I groused about this later, Jim said, “I’m not surprised.” Which is just him being a jerk, claiming that I’m picking on him more because there are leftover hormones from the pregnancy. Whatever. Suck it up, buttercup.

At any rate, the hormones, while there, are at least now down to a very low level. As in 8. But I still have to come in for a follow-up visit to check them again. SIGH.

This visit, though, she verified that I wanted to go back on the Pill. Jim and I said yes. We decided that now would not be a good time to get knocked up again because 1) it’s so soon after the last pregnancy, and 2) Jim is on Chantix, and we have no idea how that will affect anything. But then came an interesting moment when she asked how long I wanted to be on the Pill for. The question behind the question was How long do you want to wait before you try again?

It’s a hard thing to decide, being put on the spot like that. She had pen in hand, poised for writing the script. No chance to collogue with my husband. So I opted for three months. We will be back at the end of November to decide what we’re doing next.

Afterwards, Jim was like, “So…you really want until December before trying again?” He sounded disappointed.

I explained that I’m a little gun-shy about getting pregnant again. I’ve been pregnant twice in a span of a little over six months. I’ve had two miscarriages. Neither is fun. Also, both are exhausting. And with the financial crunch that we’re in right now, I cannot afford to be sleeping all the time.

And just…well, like I said…I’m gun-shy, okay? This has been a really rough year. I’m afraid of having another miscarriage, afraid that I’m just setting myself up for more doctor visits to find out what’s wrong, and I just don’t have any more in me to deal with it. Mostly, I just want work a lot, pay off bills, save lots of money, and build up for next year. Because I’ve got a plan! Next year, there will be money in that savings account, a trip in the works, and plans to move into a bigger, nicer place.

So, DON’T PANIC. Because next year is gonna be awesome.

I guess I’d better post now, while Jim’s out with his friends, because this is pretty much the only time I can post.

So, where the hell have I been? Well, I’ve been working a lot, that’s what. As I’ve mentioned before, Jim’s dad loaned us money to help pay for Jim to go to school this semester since Jim was late on getting that stuff done. Half of it is a gift, half of it is not.

Jim’s mom paid half of that half, so now the amount I owe his dad is a quarter of what it was. So that’s good. Although, ideally, I’d like to pay everyone back everything, but it’s helpful to know I only have to pay the much smaller amount.

There’s that. And you know we’re going to have to get Jim’s books as well. Any of you who have ever taken a full college course knows how ridiculous that can be. When I was going to SIU, it was never under $300.

Okay, so that’s the school stuff, right? Well, there’s also the car: I’ve been working on saving money to replace all four tires on our car–our frequent drives have taken a toll on my poor, little car, and the tires are pretty bald–and we’d like to replace the brakes as well. And speaking of the car, it’s time to update the sticker. That’s another $100 due next month.

So, I had already been planning on working overtime with all this stuff. Still, I was okay. But then–then–I came out of work on Tuesday to a very upset Jim.  After a little prodding, I got the story out of him.

Jim had decided he was going to surprise me. Our freezer needed to be defrosted big time. We were starting to have a hard time opening the freezer door. He got a really nice dinner started for us, put it in the fridge, and then went to work on the freezer. He had planned on asking me, once I was home, to get something in the freezer, and then I would open it and see that it was nice and clean and I would be all surprised and happy with him.

What happened instead: He was almost done getting it all cleaned out, tried to scrape off the last bit of ice off the back of the freezer–and punctured it.

Goodbye, Freon. Goodbye, fridge.

When he told me this, I didn’t say anything for a while. He got upset. He wanted me to be upset at him. But how could I? It was an honest mistake, and it was one he made while trying to do something nice for me.

But…I simply didn’t know how I could do any more overtime. I was already exhausted. And I guessed that our fridge would probably cost about $500 to replace. Jim’s uncle and dad (both run a rental property of their own, so they’re more in the know about these things than we are) estimated about the same.

So we had to buy a cooler. I’ll say this: We now have a really nice cooler. I figured if we had to buy one, we might as well buy one for the long haul, right? Poor Jim’s nice dinner he had prepared was ruined, as he had to unplug the fridge after the incident.  We ate Taco Bell instead.

The verdict was that we needed money, we needed a lot of money, and we needed a lot of money fast. Luckily, I work at a place where that is at least a possibility. I’ve never had a job where I could pretty much do overtime whenever, and right now, I’m really grateful to have the job I have.

Anyway, that’s what I’ve been doing all week. Working. Working a lot. I’ve worked 7 AM – 5:30 PM every day this week, and I’ve signed up for 6 AM-1 PM tomorrow. Yup, by tomorrow afternoon, I will have worked 17 hours just in overtime.

But–good news! I called the office, and they replaced our fridge, right? I was bracing myself for what they were going charge us. Well, they left a receipt on the fridge. Guess what it said?

$50.

$50. Not $500. I checked and double-checked the placement of that decimal, trust me.

I’m terrified it’s going to be a dream. That they’re going to tell me that $50 was just to haul it up, and I still have to pay the rest of it. But that would be kind of weird if they did. I mean, this isn’t a new fridge that they gave us. It’s obviously used. But if it’s $50, I don’t care. If I don’t have to worry so much about the fridge, I might actually be able to pay all this other stuff off in the next couple of months. I might be able to get by this month, albeit it by the skin of my teeth, but still…I might.

So I’m just going to be happy for now, try not to worry, breathe a sigh of relief–and go to bed. Because, as you can imagine, I’m pretty freakin’ exhausted.

Night, y’all.

I am beyond stressed. Getting s’mores at work today didn’t even help.

Oh, yeah, we TOTALLY got s’mores. My job can be so awesome sometimes.

But still. Stress! There’s the recent stuff, of course, that I’ve dwelt on enough and don’t feel like dwelling on anymore.  Unfortunately, the doctors keep me dwelling on stuff by having me come into the office to check to make sure those pregnancy hormones are going down after the miscarriage. Initially, my levels were something like 1400, and by Monday, they dropped to 400. Weirdly enough, if I took a pregnancy test right now, it would probably still come up positive.

Yeah. Weird. But since the levels are still not around the 0 mark, I’ve got to come back in a couple of weeks to get blood drawn again.

Anyway, leaving early the last two days = make up time today, which is just time over that is straight pay and not overtime pay. I HATE THAT. I like my overtime money. I like it a lot.

But back to stress. Today was  just a bad day at work, s’mores be damned. I learned a new workflow that I thought would net me more closures, but then they turned around and said we couldn’t use it. The tech who told me was so bummed about it, she needed one of my Jolly Ranchers to cheer her up, heh. Apparently, the s’mores didn’t cut it for her, either.

And then Jim kept texting me because he was freaking out. He was trying to get signed up for fall classes and found out that he’s not eligible for financial aid this year. I’m not surprised; I warned him that once we got married and they figured in my income, he probably wouldn’t be eligible because I “make too much money.” HAHAHA. Anyway, that wasn’t shocking, but they turned around and told him they “wouldn’t do” government loans either. Huh? What the hell?

Oh, and by the way, they told him, the money is due tomorrow.

I was pretty pissed about this. When Jim submitted everything, the e-mail he got said that the financial aid office was supposed to get ahold of him if they needed anything else. They did need other stuff. They did not get ahold of him. And they were only now telling him this because he went down there to ask them about it, and they were telling him the day before the due date. And it was looking like he wasn’t going to be able to go to school for the fall.

So, Jim was freaking out. I tried to reassure him by telling him that he could just dedicate himself to writing until the spring semester. He kept texting me, though, and it was freaking me out because I know that Jim hates that he’s not working, and the only thing that has been keeping him sane was knowing he’d be in school full time soon, and that going to school does, in fact, contribute to our household’s future. I worried another six months of no work and no school would drive him into depression.

But then he told me that his dad paid for it. His dad is telling him that we’ll only owe him half the money, since he helped pay Jim’s siblings’ college.

But…new stress. I hate borrowing money. This is especially how I did not want to start my marriage–borrowing money from my father-in-law. So now I feel compelled to pull even more overtime to get that paid off ASAP. Jim tells me not to kill myself over it, but…I don’t know…Jim’s mine to take care of now, ya know?  MINE.

And then there’ s stress that comes with the fact that Jim and I are fighting more than usual. Even though I know it’s been totally the clash between the pregnancy hormones and the Chantix, it still sucks. Luckily, Jim will be done with the Chantix in about a month, so that should help a lot. And, of course, my pregnancy hormones are dropping. I should be back to “sane” level fairly soon.

But I had to admit something else entirely that had been bugging me for a while to Jim last night. Jim has one big hobby, one thing he loves that keeps him going these days: Warhammer 40K.

And I hate Warhammer 40K.

There. I admit it. And I do. I’m not even sure why. I’ve tried to like it. I listen to Jim talk about his games. I listen to strategies. I look at how he’s painting his little army guys and how he’s adding modifications to them. They’re very cool.

But I hate them. I hate Jim’s little army guys. I think they’re boring. I think they’re cocky-looking little assholes that are overpriced and suck up too much of Jim’s time and energy. I hate hearing about the guys that Jim plays with. Some of them are complete dicks, and about what? Because they have no legitimate lives, so they can dedicate themselves to the stupidest hobby on the planet?

Ugh.

Jim is a good husband–a little too good at times–and immediately offered to quit playing. Which, of course, is dumb. Why do guys tell you they want you to talk about how you feel about something, and when you do, they automatically go into “fix-it” mode? Do that, and I won’t say anything again! Just because I hate Warhammer doesn’t mean that Jim should quit his favorite hobby. That’s dumb. It’s just how I feel about it; it doesn’t mean it’s right or logical or anything.

Really, where it’s getting to me is that I’ve been trying to fit in my overtime around this gaming schedule, and I’m getting resentful of it. When I have to pull a couple of insanely long days just to make sure I get off work as early as possible on other days for these stupid little army guys that I don’t even think are interesting, I get a little annoyed.

So I think Jim and I have agreed that I’m not going to try to “fit in” my overtime around the gaming anymore. The overtime comes first. We’ve  got bills to pay. Still, I’ll try not to pull the nearly 11 hour days on his gaming days. I’m not a complete asshole. But Jim’s going to the comic book store an hour later than he usually would have isn’t gonna kill him, either.

Here’s hoping that’s the case, anyway.

One day I’m gonna write a happy post again. I really am.