(Yes, I check my work email and my Gmail email, but not my “grownup” email. There’s an email from Former -!!- Boss Gwen waiting on me and I just can’t go there).

Had a dream last night that I went to my old workplace and automatically sat down at my old desk and checked my email (which was my reflex back when I worked there) and noticed there were over 100 emails there. I was horrified until I realized that a) they were probably getting forwarded to the new payroll clerk and b) I didn’t work there, so they weren’t my issue anyway. Next, in the dream, I gave hell to a former co-worker for something (D, it was the redheaded girl in training) and avoided talking to Former Boss Gwen.

Back in the awake world, work is crazy busy. Today I set up my first company (and started a second). Maybe Mondays are just super busy – there were 7 to set up – but otherwise I don’t know how these ladies keep up this pace. Quitting time comes really quickly. I just realized that I didn’t even miss websurfing in between tasks. (Weird).

Thursday is my first pay date at the new company. Tomorrow is my last pay date at the old company. (I was all pleased about having extra money in the budget until Gene had the audacity to point out the unexpected purchase of a washing machine. Damn).

Did I mention that the company buys all of us lunch on Fridays? I heard this and was pleased – my previous employer was a restaurant company so there was always food around. I was looking quite forward to whatever the company deigned to purchase for my consumption – pizza, perhaps a giant sub sandwich.

So imagine my shock when the menu that was passed around – that we got to choose our lunch from – was from Olive Garden.

(Olive Garden sidebar: the first time I went to Olive Garden, it was with my Grandma and Grandpa M and my brother and my mom. We went because Grandpa won big at poker. Ten or so years later, Gene and I had our first date at the Olive Garden in Muncie, Indiana).

So yay! Free Olive Garden. And free ice cream (not company sponsored, but the company who owns the building paid.)

I’m patiently waiting to hear what’s wrong with this company. Blow Job Tuesdays? Maybe we all take turns cleaning the bathroom?

Is it time for dinner yet?

How about bedtime?

I am so tired. Working is hard. On the bright side, I’m learning a lot about the software I’ll be using/supporting. My job is going to be setting up new client payroll data in the software. I’m not sure how much I’ll be communicating with the clients and I am pretty sure I won’t have to meet them (which means probably no business cards, drat…but who knows – I could end up surprised). I like my new employer because they have a ton of work for me to do and it’s all payroll. No HR, no benefits, no drug testing (heck, I wasn’t drug tested…finally, I can develop the coke addiction I’ve always dreamed of), no helping out A/P.

So far, the only bad things are the whole “no sneakers” rule (what is that about??? Was the CEO dumped on prom night by the CEO of Reebok?), the “no internet” rule (seriously, I may develop the coke addiction just to offset the shakes from no Internet) and most importantly, no D.

Actually! That reminds me….more later.

Good things about new employer/new job:
1) Employer has not filed for Chapter ANYTHING. In fact, if anything they have too much work! (Supposedly, if I’d started a few weeks ago I would have been insanely busy at work).

2) Free lunch on Fridays.

3) Jeans are OK any day of the week. (So cool. I know it sounds silly, but at my old job they refused to let us wear jeans unless it was Friday).

4) Benefits are…pretty good! (Not totally the boondoggle I was hoping for, but I still think there is a savings in there)

5) Job security. One of the ladies I interviewed with told me at lunch today that she really wanted to hire me to work with her but that the HR lady overruled her. Oh well. Maybe next time! And that’s something else…I truly believe I will go places at this company.

6) Sign with my name on it. I saw my cubicle and it says “Elaine Last Name” on it. YES! 9.75 years and I never got that! Sounds dumb, but I am so excited!

On an unrelated note: I’m going to use the Mahjobiscrappis category for this post, but only because I haven’t made a category for “Mahjobbis::crossingfingers::”.

So, Wednesday was it. I got to work a little early and worked my ass off (seriously, I was in the middle of writing an insurance procedure at zero hour – never finished, btw) until Boss Gwen announced that lunch was ready. She had ordered a huge range of Chinese food for us all to eat and enjoy!

All of us sat in the conference room and ate and talked talked talked. Everyone signed a very sweet “farewell” card and pitched in to get me a membership to the Chocolate of the Month club. Once a quarter for the next year I’ll get a box of candy! What a great idea!

After everyone went back to work, Gwen and I talked for a few minutes. Mostly about my replacement and all I could really say was, “It’ll be fine!” (Privately, I told D that “It’ll be a nightmare!”).

Then, we loaded up the car with the last of my stuff (and leftover Farewell Cheesecake, leftover Chinese food and Good Luck balloons). Gwen and I tried to stay very stoic about it and not cry (well, OK, it would have been more along the lines of WAHOO from my side of the table).

Yesterday, I hung around the house until noon, then I picked up lunch for D and I and drove out to her house where we ate and talked and talked and talked and talked and talked. Since I hadn’t seen her for more than an hour since her surgery, it was so freaking nice to spend all that time with her. Especially since I didn’t have to keep an ear out for Gwen (who was understandably annoyed to see her two underlings yammering instead of working). Oh, it was a wonderful day.

Today, I again hung around the house until noon and then Gene and I went to see the new movie Inception. OMG, it was a great movie but it was very confusing. I wonder if Leonardo DeCaprio will ever evolve into a comedic actor or if he’ll stick to playing troubled men (Revolutionary Road, all those Scorcese movies, etc)?

And now I’m geeking although I should go be a good girl and clean the kitchen, which is just…in need of a good sweeping, wipe down and steam mopping.

Monday, I start a new adventure.

Actually, let me start this way: Twenty years ago my family had a dachshund named Max and he had a lump in his crotch. It was a lymphoma and Mom and Dad spent a lot of time and money getting Max the best treatment possible, including a stint of treatment at the Purdue University Animal Hospital. This prolonged his life for many years.

So anyway, Betty has a lump on her face. I took one look at her and freaked the fuck out (on the inside), remembering Max with his tumors and Mom driving all the way from Indianapolis to West Lafayette and wondering how the hell am I going to make that happen from here? We (ahem) set a limit of $1000 on such treatments for the dogs so yikes!

Betty’s lump is under her left eye, so I Googled “lump under dog’s eye” and two sites said it was most likely an abscess. Since no one said, “Hey, there are huuuge lymph nodes under a dog’s eyes” I stopped worrying.

She and I went to the vet’s office today and I swear I saw Betty’s life flash in front of my eyes when the doctor felt her lymph nodes. I literally exhaled with relief when she called the all clear. “I know what you were looking for,” I told the vet.

I am so glad…Betty does have an abscess, but hopefully two weeks of antibiotics will cure it as well as cure the death breath she has going right now.

I never thought I’d retire from my employer’s, but I’m still surprised that after tomorrow I won’t walk back in there again (I’ve been asked to ‘keep in touch’ but I think that I will only stay close w/ The Almighty D).

After tomorrow… no more stupid Xmas Muzak (no Muzak at all!)…no more phone calls from baby daddies…no more endless social services forms. Starting Monday, I will be an Implementation Analyst for a payroll provider and I will work with new clients. The new job is a heavy burden – I have seen (or at least heard) how hard our rep at our payroll provider works and I know I want to be as good as her. She is always always friendly and so smart.

Other hilarity: I was sitting in the car today, reading, when my phone rang. It was a payroll manager from a company I’d sent my resume to. The job was extremely promising but way too far away (almost an hour). The money was crazy good (more than I have ever made!) and I was sorely tempted to try and interview Thursday or Friday just in case the new job doesn’t work out.

I hope I have made the right choice!

The new washer (btw, “warsher” is how it is pronounced sometimes in Indiana) was delivered and installed Thursday. I got as far as hearing the little tune it plays when you raise the lid but didn’t use it yet.  (I was at D’s house so I got home late and ehhh, wasn’t inspired to do laundry yet).

Therefore, I am now using it for the first time and it is so great to have the option of clean clothes again.  The new washer is ginormous – 5 cubic feet of laundry goodness. I’m glad I bought the really big one because two weeks of dirty clothes for the two of us = 10+ cubic feet. I will be curious to see if the machine acts any different when it’s merely one week of dirty clothes.

Anyway – one load into this, I am so glad to have the new machine and I am glad I stuck to my guns about buying another top loading machine. At Lowes on Tuesday, I was down to either the Maytag or a Whirlpool. Maytag had a better warranty (plus, it was cheaper thanks to the price match at Home Depot), which is goofy since Maytag is owned by Whirlpool.

So, this is my life. I’m 33 and excited about laundry.

(Wait, water’s necessary to wash clothes? Boo, then).

Anyway, until Monday the water would eventually come out and I could do laundry (hooray!) but Monday, no water, no matter long I waited (and yes, I did wait 4 hours, thank you!). So the repairman came over this morning. Gene called me to let me know that the gizmo I mentioned above is the culprit and that a fancy one would be $100 and would require a day or two to order the part or a standard one would be $50 and the repairman could fix it right away.

And then Gene called back an hour later. The repairman suddenly doesn’t think it’s the gizmo after all. Instead, he thinks it’s the whatchamacalit or the doobamaflochie. The whatchamacalit is $50 and the doobamaflochie is $75. “Well, fercryingoutloud, order it!”

Bad news: While both of those items have existed somewhere in the history of Planet Earth, they are no longer available. Damn. (Washer is 10 years old, top loading, Maytag, love it dearly). Repairman says we can call Maytag and hope they have a spare part laying around – I can hear that conversation “Hello, Maytag. I need a part for my top loading washing machine. What kind is it? Ummm, white?” – or we can suck it up and go buy a new one.

(Oh, why why why why WHYYYYYY did I not just buy a new one during the 4th of July sales?)

(Yes, I know… if I had purchased a new washer, the problematic part in the old machine would have been readily available to the point where we could have built a washing machine out of a case of the part)

And in case you’re curious why I am relating this tale at midnight it’s for several reasons:

First, after we went to Lowes we limped across the street to Chick-Fil-A* and I got a large Diet Dr. Pepper.

Second, I am beating myself up for not getting one of those handy 10% Lowes coupons because I googled it and I could have combined the coupon with a price match of the identical machine at Home Depot (cheaper at HD but I don’t care for them) and saved $100 plus the price match. Arrrrgh. I was going to go to the post office at lunch and get one of those moving kits because that has the coupon inside, I hear.

* Do you think that in France they spell it Chic-Fils-A?

Anyway, one day in early 2004, I was reading the Sunday newspaper. I took a look at the Pets for Sale section in the classifieds and saw that someone was selling a beagle. I wanted to call about that dog but I never did. I didn’t want to call on Sunday because people are funny about Sundays. I didn’t want to call during the day because I was at work, didn’t want to call at night because what if they were eating dinner? And then, darn, it was too late to call. If I’d been braver we might have an entirely different dog.

But instead I found petfinder.com and found a rescue group near us. I don’t really remember how we decided upon beagles as a breed, but this rescue group had a beagle. Beagle mix, actually. When I spoke to the lady who ran the rescue group, she repeated herself multiple times that this dog was only a beagle mix (which we could tell just by his record on Petfinder).

So Gene and I went to the vet’s office that the rescue group housed their rehoming effort out of and saw the dog – Scooby. We couldn’t get the attention of the lady who ran the rescue so we looked at the other dogs she had that day. She had a pen of four or five younger dogs and we saw one of those we liked. While we were admiring the other dog, I saw another interested party take Scooby out of his pen and take him for a walk around the grassy lot. A few minutes later I looked back and Scooby was back in his pen and the other interested parties were gone They had rejected him. Remembering that makes me sad even today. Not that I would have wanted these other people to decide on Scooby, but that someone rejected my dog. Jerks. We took Scooby to Petsmart before we went home and he was so timid that I had to put him in a shopping cart to get him around the store.

Everything was grand with Scooby, although my heart broke every time I had to put him in his kennel (a travel kennel – we didn’t know any better, although of course we do now). And I have written before about going completely crazy the first time I had to take him to the vet’s office to be boarded (here’s a clue: if you rescue a dog, especially an anxious one, don’t take him to a crappy kennel in the first month).

But, something was missing. We found that something after owning Scooby for about two months. Her name was Betty and she was gorgeous. We loaded up Scooby in my car and drove to the kennel (the rescue group had moved its home base). The lady who ran the rescue group recognized us and Scooby and showed us Betty, apologizing for her not having a collar (“one of the other dogs ate it off her” – uh huh, one of the other dogs!).  So we did the same thing again and took her to Petsmart (in the travel kennel since she didn’t have a collar and hadn’t had her rabies vaccination yet).

And then we all went home and it all was like it was supposed to be. And six years later, the two of them run the house.