Going to the ...spa? Yeah.. the spa.

Ok, so I hate those whines that make me cringe and you know exactly what I'm talking about so, I am sparing you my "I'm gonna make you bawl just reading this pathetic shit".  You're welcome, fellow whineees.

 

Now, you may offer me some cheese because, here goes...

 

I found a lump, yeah. .. and I don't mean in my pancake.  It pisses me off actually.  My job is unsteady, my husband is gone, I have two kids who for some reason think they need things like food and clothing and attention, all I need now is for my dog to die and then I've got a perfect friggin country song  (I don't have a dog thank God or I'd really be worried about Sparky). 

 

The best part is here at work if anything happens to anyone, it's through the floor like a house on fire.  Everyone gets all up in your shit.  Which, I am sure is really nice for some people.  For me, not so much.  I'm the lay low type.  So, get this.. we used to be able to make up our time if we missed an hour or so for some sort of emergency but due to the economic crisis (I am so effing sick of the term economic crisis BTW) they have revoked that little perk.  We could come in on Saturday or whenever it was convenient as long as it was in the same week.  I get to take my vacation time for a mammogram and ultrasound.  Isn't that great!  If I were to take a vacation, I'd really rather my boobies got squished by the hands of Juan the pool boy, not some nursey chick with a robot machine.  For my sanity, and for the nosey ass people around me, I have made the executive decision to say I am taking the afternoon off for a massage.  I mean I AM going to be naked and wearing a robe.  I'll just visualize myself at the Equinox (an amazing hotel in VT).  And really, it is a massage of sorts... so it's not exactly a lie. 

 

Sigh.  Sometimes things just suck.  Wish me luck at the "spa".