Grave Dimensions

I just had a very flattering meeting with NM, but the word is I’m likely to be absorbed as a subdivision of another department which, even with maintaining my title and the maximum 4% annual raise, it’s a demotion. I get why and where I’m being invited to join, but with my external stock rising, it’s not exactly the wisest move for NM to hand me over to her rival— a very nice, soft spoken woman who would give me a lot of flexibility in my remote work, but she’s been slowly chiseling NM’s power since she got promoted last year.

And now that Payroll was fired this afternoon, I’m not certain how much of this is politics for being friends with her and as a potential critical loss for NM.

My documented work is above my title. I’ve been doing the work she left behind as Operations Director. And I get she acknowledges I’m not one to be groomed, but given autonomy. Granted, it’s not entirely my own doing. I argued that naturally I came here to be a part of a team and strive to make that support possible in spite of a pigeon hole and no archival resources. Interpersonal conflicts before either of us joined the company led to a convoluted placement under HR, and there’s no historical reasoning of where it fits without the curriculum I built to integrate our services cohesively.

In the same meeting, she realized I should be a natural resource in onboarding orientation and I should also be moved to a visible office to reception since all clients flow through me as we meet the state’s requirements to digitize all services. As well, my partnerships give us opportunities to take our standards federally with speaking engagements with larger, national organizations. Anyone attached to this project will be a contender for strategic growth. I hope she sees the opportunity to pivot this for her own benefit.

The justice seeker in me wants to fix what I didn’t break. And the peace maker in me says “let’s all just take a breath”. But the Menopausal Bitch in me says

Oddly, it’s made up of a number of people I’ve been casually acquainted with for years. In theory these Misfit Toys should team up. The lead host isn’t impressed with what she’s summoned up, though.

Had lunch with ZuZu and The BF and impromptu lesson on Poe. The second they left, immediately got a text from The Rooster asking to stop by to see the dogs. We had dinner and conversation like we did before CoVid.

I loaded them all with homemade breads and meals for the week. I needed the excuse to cook for myself, but more importantly, I got to listen to their adventures.

I know I’m a cranky ol’ Bruja, but would it help to know my hour long hot flash today was enough to bake this damn load of sourdough?

Or that I learned I can carry a screwdriver under my boob while I worked on these shelves? So my knee knockers are useful after all?

Our persistent belief that the mind operates separately from the body, as if it’s on another plane of existence, is ridiculous. If your brain is dying, and that is what dementia or gray matter loss really is, you are dying. Slowly, persistent in maintaining homeostasis, but you are dying.

Culturally, not you and I personally, operate under the assumption that our organs aren’t part of a system. This is how we medically justify forcing a corpse to incubate a fetus. That’s an extreme, but it’s the basis for justifying carry pregnancy to term even if that life isn’t viable. The persistence to facilitate life beyond reasonable expectations is so pervasive, many women who accept hysterectomies don’t realize they may still have ovaries. Oophorectomy is a separate procedure that is often considered optional by surgeons and insurance providers. Because life! Not hers— but the possibility those eggs could hatch.

Stay with me, this all connects.

We are witnessing a brain dead corpse still breathing, eating, and walking us into its death spiral. Why? Because it’s incubating something even more pitiful, non viable, and bankrupting we’ll be burdened to care for until it finally expires.

Just because it will happen— it will— we can’t give up fighting. Its spawn is another beast.

It’s good to take a week off. I’ll be sprinkling more days off around our holidays. I need more time to train Mabel not to steal her brother’s treats.

Nothing is more humbling than calling your child for professional help because you might have accidentally poisoned the dog.

To my credit, they’re identical (the dogs and the pill shape) and the kid put her on an annual injectable that interacts with monthly flea treatments (pills). And Mabel’s just an aggressive asshole about food. She swooped in to get that peanutty goodness before I saw her collar. I jammed my hand down her throat, but she’s too quick!

But yeah, thankfully, ZuZu had neglected to update her shot last month or this night would have gone a lot worse.

Made some overdue face time at my local. Haven’t seen my favorites in weeks.

This half of the year is filled with the neediest, irascible clients that their own families avoid.

Throw in a few title promotions for the favorites and a patronizing warning that we all need to go easy on the newest hire (the man walked in with 18 years of experience and a formalized playbook, but yeah, he deserves grace).

Testing the boundaries of my new HVAC. Apparently, maintaining 70° with this amount humidititty (yes, you read that right) is enough to shut us both down, but not out.

And that bookshelf that never found a home? It’s now holding up my useless clothing (in progress) while I work in my underwear.

I know I will appreciate this when I don’t have time, but I’d really love it if one of my ac systems worked continuously. Or at least in my car, so I could runaway from this madness.

It’s already Wednesday. I bought this on Saturday anticipating a boozy brunch for one.

Now I’m just drinking it like a bottle of beer with the snack bits I salvaged from the monthly deep clean.

I’m in the homestretch of a 7 month whole house renovation. It’s gonna end up with a remodel for my bath and bedroom, but such is life when downsizing would double my mortgage.

I have to remind myself to make before and after videos. Those flow better when I really start to question what the hell I’m doing with what little time, money and sanity I still have.

Who am I kidding? This is filling me with such joy! While I hate that my HVAC replacement ate the funds to pay off my car and took our TV with it, it made me realize my financial freedom now that I’m not paying college tuition, cars, and living expenses for anyone in my family.

I put my entire family through college. I still haven’t let that sink in that I was paying off student debt for me and their dad when he left.

So many tools and supplies he snuck into our last home while secretly remodeling it waiting for the sale… I paid for those, too. Thankfully, I salvaged a good portion of the leftovers he abandoned. I’m finally convinced that I can do all the things he struggled to do. It’s funny how much I believed in him— that if he was over challenged then it would be impossible for me. How did I forget that I once designed, planned and built furniture by hand?!

Granted this all kinda snowballed. With the exception of the carpet and longing for better lighting, I didn’t have a plan for this. It just happened organically when ZuZu turned 21 and asked for some design upgrades to their bedroom. I was happy to do it. I love these projects, especially with and for the kids.

But they’re not kids.

They don’t want to help build a memory and they sure as hell didn’t want to even clean their rooms let alone respect our agreement about smoking pot in the house. (Bennett and I get routinely tested, so go outside, Zu. Did you really think homemade bottle and sock filters were that clever?) Months of misdirection complicated detecting the HVAC burnout. 🤦🏻‍♀️🤌🏻

That was it. That was when I finally snapped out of it. My 50th birthday slipped past the year before without the slightest recognition and here I was working my ass off to replace ZuZu’s car with one paid in full, giving the energy I needed to people who didn’t appreciate it. The Rooster wouldn’t even budge from his room. I had to act for all our sakes.

The moment I demanded more space, more creative control, and more rent because they’ve got to feel the pressure to move on, everything shifted.

Now if I can just get Zu to commit to moving out or at least not coming to my room at 11pm when they finally do come home, I might be able to explore some other options.

Like sleeping.

Sharing this because it’s too close to home. TikTok gave me a violation for sharing it. Putting it under Mature to prevent that here. Spread the word.

This and rising numbers of identical, multiple angle, scripted “Karen” stories is getting some 2016 vibes.

That Roman arch plan in DC? Yeah, I’m hearing echoes of my ex husband randomly prodding me with the phrase “New Roman”. He’d do it so strangely, repeating it as if it were a slander to entice me. Towards the end, he would tell me he was hoping to get a rise out of me using that phrase. It was bizarre. It had no meaning to me. It’s still off the wall, but now I’m seeing a chilling pattern to the absurdity.

Folks, this has been coming a long time. This random, chaotic rage and obsession with Rome and Norse mythology (particularly amongst white men) has been fostered in pockets of influence. The men and boys we’ve dismissed for their weird obsessions? They’ve been talking and planning for a long time. The antihero era in movies and TV were grooming this concept.

I checked in with my friend to be certain we’re on the same page.

Unfortunately for him, I’m not a casual dater. It takes effort to win me over, but I appreciate the admiration.