Now that I "work from home," and I use air quotes because I haven't had ANY work in almost two weeks, and there's this one part of my duties at the textbook place I used to like: the coordinator would send me everyone's corrections–all the other proofreaders, the owner of the company's notes, and so on. I would make sure all the approved corrections were made on the final copy. I liked doing this because I could gloat when I caught things others didn't, and completely crap all over myself when I missed something.
I figured since I have been gone from the textbook company for awhile, that the coordinator had reassigned said task. But yesterday I emailed her and told her how I liked doing it and guess what? She said NO ONE had been assigned the task and she had been doing it her own busy overwhelmed self, and my point is because I didn't SPEAK UP, I have just cost myself about a thousand bucks in the two months since I started freelancing.
Do you like how I interrupted the VERY FIRST SENTENCE of this post to ramble on about some different topic? Seriously, am I the most annoying blog you read? Not that I am a blog. Well, I kind of am.
As I was saying before the shiny object of money I'm NOT earning distracted me, now that I "work from home," the following seems to happen almost every night.
Me: [on Facebook. Somebody get me a 12-step program for Facebook. We couldn't call it Facebook Anonymous, because hi, there's my face]
Marvin: Well, I'm going to bed.
Me: [distracted by the part where I'm taking a quiz to see what color I am, and being annoyed when it says I am orange] What? You're going to bed?
Marvin: [sigh] Yes.
Me: It's so early!
I continue to be astonished that Marvin needs to retire at 9:30 or 10:00, because he gets up at effing 5 effing a. effing m., which is ludicrous and no one but the sun itself needs to be up at that hour. Actually, even the SUN isn't up at that hour. But Marvin is AT work by 7. At least that's what he tells me. He's probably having a torrid affair with a Mennonite. Do Mennonites get up early? Maybe just Amish people do. If anyone is a Mennonite and wishes to yell at me about my ignorance of the Mennonite culture, feel free.
What if I have a huge Mennonite following and I have no idea? What if they all leave in droves today? June's blog. Offending Mennonites since 2010.
So, the point of what was supposed to be a short story since I have to be somewhere at 10:00 and it's 8:41 and I haven't showered yet, is that the other night Marvin went to bed at his usual Presbyterian time of 9:30. See what I did there? I tried to stereotype another group, just to be offensive to everyone. My next-door neighbor is a Presbyterian, and while I have no idea when she goes to bed, I do know that several of her friends from church drink 7 and 7s, and they told me it's also called "The Pres," because it is the drink of choice of Presbyterians. Which is funny, because it was also my drink of choice at weddings when I was a teen, because my mother just thought I was drinking ginger ale.
SO MARVIN GOES TO BED. Could I just get to the story? And of course Tallulah stays up with me, because that dog is obsessed with me and follows me everywhere, including the bathroom. It's like I'm a flimsy gum wrapper with the phone number of a very cute guy on it, and she is forever rechecking her coat pocket to make sure I'm still there.
Around 11:00, I decided to retire, as well. Not from my "work at home" position, because whoo! With the work lately. I mean from the day. Retire from the day. I let Talu out for her last constitutional, and I commenced cleaning my sexy night guard and getting the kabuki skin treatment on my face, which yes, I already showed you at some point, maybe try looking in November 2008. I think it was Faithful Reader Lee who became obsessed with seeing me in the kabuki night cream.
Now I have offended the kabuki theater people. I am going to say you all get up at midday. And you drink Jack and Cokes.
So I'm getting ready when I hear, "BARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" It didn't even SOUND like Tallulah. It was too high-pitched and insistent of a bark; hers is more, "You piss me off!" not "HATEYOUHATEYOUHATEYOU!" which is what THIS bark sounded like.
I opened the back door, and sure enough, it was Lu, and in what's always a good sign, she was barking into the bushes.
"Tallulah, come!" I said in my commanding voice that the trainer taught me. Yeah. She turned right back and came in.
I got the flashlight and stepped into the freezing night in my socks. I don't mean I only had on socks, like I was in the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but I had no other footwear and I was not comfy. But have I mentioned it was 11:00, the time all Reform Jews like to go to bed?
Honestly. I will have no readers by the end of this post.
My flashlight shone on a possum, who looked horrified and also like it was thinking perhaps it would sink its rather sizable claw parts into Tallulah's neckeldy region at any moment. I wanted to just reach over and pull Tallulah by her collar, but I was scared that she'd bite me because she was so keyed up, and I also had the very rational fear that the possum would jump onto my face and wrap its prehensile around my neck.
I actually don't think possums have prehensile tails, do they? I kind of just wanted to say prehensile. But WORMY. Its WORMY tail.
I turned to go back into the house to get Talu's food, hoping if I shook the bag she'd be interested. Poor Henry was standing in the doorway, looking exactly like a Halloween kitty, his back arched, his tail enormous, and the most terrified expression on his orange face. It was like, "I know some shizzle is going down right now, and that I need to have this posture, but oh dear God, don't let it come toward me." Which is how I felt when I had to play softball in elementary school.
You'll be stunned to hear that a bunch of dried kibble rolling around was not nearly as fascinating as a live wormy-tailed possum. And have I mentioned this entire time Tallulah was reiterating, "BARKBARKBARKBARKBARK!" and that it was 11:00 and also that Marvin slept through all of this?
Finally, though, I had to go bursting into the bedroom, my hands flapping hysterically. Marvin got up, half-asleep, calmly filled a pitcher with water, went outside, poured it on the dog, and the dog ran inside.
Then he went back to bed.
Marvin. Calmly breaking up possum fights and sleeping with Mennonites since 2010.