Ressurection

Wow. Over two months since I've blogged last. My how time flies when you can't tell the days apart. Actually, that's not true in the slightest. In the past two months, I have (in no particular order):

Bought a house
Had Virginia move in with me
Been denied a promotion
Regained the ability to walk
Bought a new cell phone
Been through several tornadoes and ridiculous storms

Actually, that's about it. For the last month I've been working fifty hour weeks at the bank. We had a part-timer get fired so that means Bret works six days each week. I even had a thirteen consecutive day stint because I'm a retard and agreed to work a Sunday at another branch. It's been pretty brutal. Virginia and I both get home around 6pm, make dinner, do one chore, and then we're both exhausted and it's time for her to go to bed. The bad part about having her here is that I don't get to bitch about my hours. For those of you who don't know her, she's a first-year general surgery resident at UNMC, which means she works eighty hours a week. The fundamental difference is that her work is intellectually stimulating. Her reward for killing herself all day every day is that she gets to spend several hours rearranging peoples' squishy bits. My reward for my work is having survived another day without jamming a paper clip into the outlet after the third time Mr. Vecchio has come in without his hearing aid that day. For instance, we were decently staffed on Friday, so I decided to spend some time away from my drawer and take care of things. By the end of my 8.25 hour shift, I had finished a week's worth of work for two people. Sadly, I'm not kidding. I hadn't done anything myself all week, and my customer service manager is out on vacation. So I did all of the things that she would have done that week, and all of the things that I should've done that week, and I did them all in one day. This speaks to the mental gymnastics that I'm subjected to every day. It's harder than you think to not drool on yourself.

The house. Virginia and I bought a house. Yard and all. Garage and everything. My real estate agent said that I'm a hard-nosed negotiator. The reality is more that he must be terrible and I'm slightly less terrible when it comes to house negotiations. We close on August 22nd. A house-warming party will ensue. The peasants will rejoice.

I have more to say on these subjects, but I'm struggling to write this morning. As I age, I wake up earlier and earlier after I drink. I went out with Jeff last night because Virginia is afraid that she's sucking the life out of me. We went to a bar and felt old. To pass the time, we counted people wearing Affliction t-shirts and performed an informal survey of how many people know who Jackson Pollock was. Let's just say that the future of the country doesn't look too bright. ZZ Top can take off his shades. I'll write more later when the brain clouds clear up.