My new job is ronrey. So ronrey.
I sit at the front of the office while everyone sits toward the back, doing whatever it is their doing back there. I’m at the beck and call of our front door because it’s constantly locked, so I can’t even get up to pee without notifying someone. I kinda miss the guys I used to make fun of every day at my old job, because at least I got social interaction there. Here, it’s just me and the people that come to the door. And my Pandora playlist. I could actually complain a lot more, but I hear that’s not terribly becoming.
I’ve gotten a few more Literally Efficient clients, which is good. Or rather, a few more potential clients. Two other Zona Rosa members have called me, and I’m pretty stoked about that. Rosemary is having a workshop near Athens in about a month and I might be able to score a discount rate if I’m able to help with her travel arrangements.
Thankfully, one of my Mom’s friend was so generous and offered Oscar and I to stay in her beach house an an anniversary present, so we’re going down to Florida for the first weekend of October. Their guesthouse (where we’ll be staying) is cozy and decorated like the pages of a Pottery Barn catalog, and their actual house is even cuter. If it doesn’t weird them out I’ll try and get a few snapshots of the inside for inspiration.
I can’t seem to get enough pretzels/salt and vinegar chips lately. And no, it’s not because I’m pregnant, unfortunately. Or fortunately, depending on which side you’re on (not mine). I’ve read all these articles online (very bad, I know) and I’m trying to stay at a very small stress level (ask anyone – I’m doing better!), but I just don’t have the patience. I tried to outsmart myself and said “No Googling” (see below post), buuut I’m also terribly stubborn and that didn’t last but a full day or two.
So now I’m in this very stuck place, feeling like I don’t quite fit in at this new job and also wishing for things that are pretty much completely out of my control, and all I can find to say is “poop,” because hearing that word makes me smile, I don’t care where I am (try it – you might, too).
I don’t mean to sound like a whiner, I promise. These are just all the things in my head dumped out and scattered on a page. Poop.