Alarm clock?

I eased out of sleep today, stretching and coming back to the waking world slowly, feeling well rested.  I eased across the bed to Boyfriend, who stirred slightly, murmured and blinked his eyes.  I smile at him and he squints slowly.

“What time are you supposed to be at work?” he asks.

Slow motion panic sets in.  I fumble for my phone and turn on the display.  2:51 pm lights up cheerily, and I feel that weight of inevitability sink into the pit of my stomach.

“I’m supposed to be at work in nine minutes,” I say, not fully understanding my own words.  “Nine minutes.  What… do I do?”

Needless to say, this was an exciting way to start my day.  Things went fairly smoothly through the rest of the shift, with the usual mild chaos associated with a holiday weekend.  Now that I’m home, I’ve calmed down, finished organizing my office, and updated my various internet stuff.  One more shift until my “weekend”.

Lots of interesting things happening soon… and the first fun thing is Lillian and her girl visiting, starting Saturday!  Maybe I’ll get to post something before then… and maybe she will too.

Sleepy Sunday

Easiest Sunday evening shift I’ve ever had.

Went into the Abyss around five o’clock.  Did some busy work until I got a cocktail drinking four-top in the bar around 5:15.  They had a few apps, wracked up a $130 tab and needed very little maintenance.  I tended to two other tables, kept busy, and sang along as the very talented piano player entertained.  My cocktail drinkers slipped some bills into their check and called out to me, “Keep the change.”  Figuring he’d left a lousy tip, I picked up the book to count the cash.  Two crisp hundred dollar bills were looking back at me.

So, I managed to leave the slow restaurant by 8:15 with nearly a hundred bucks.  Not bad for a dead Sunday night.

things not to try

We’ve had some interesting patrons at the Abyss in the last couple of nights.  For your education, I present to you a short list of Things Not To Try:

The Move : An Update

Lillian : Hmm… What to blog about today… what to blog…
Amy : about .. anything?
this is yer work blog?

Lillian : yeah.
so blogging about a dead fish that isn’t on someone’s plate seems a bit odd.
Amy : haha

off season?

So.  Things have shifted, slightly, in my world.  Back at the Abyss, as I’m going to call my former-and-now-present place of employment.  Working hard at the photography gigs, in a slow attempt to change my primary source of income.  It’ll get there, eventually.  For now, picking up as many shifts as I can at the Abyss, to make up for my severely crappy June in Hell, where I just resigned.

Let’s see.  Where did I leave off?  Where shall I begin?

Or maybe I’ll just jump into my night and let you guess what’s been going on in the past few weeks..

It’s a good thing…

I never claimed I’d be good at updating a blog. 

I can’t believe it’s been a month since I posted.  But what a busy month!

precarious life

I’ve been nursing my rat all day.  She’s over two years old, quite the old lady in rat years.  She’s dying, and there’s nothing I can do about it.  I can’t get her to eat, or drink, or breathe easily.  I wish I could help her somehow; it’s strange how a being so small can make me feel so powerless.

I just sat down to write a card to the wife of one of my good customers from the restaurant.  He came in and sat at Boyfriend’s tables last week.  Always a happy man, the joy was drained from his face, and I could tell immediately something was wrong.  Boyfriend told me quietly that the man’s wife was sick, dying suddenly of cancer.  We’d last seen her around Christmas, happily drinking her chardonnay and telling jokes, laughing, enjoying life.  Now she’s not well enough to come to dinner.

How is it that I couldn’t comprehend his pain, his helplessness, until my pet rat, a creature I usually don’t pay much attention to, is barely hanging onto life?  If I feel so sad over a pet, how can he possibly feel when his life companion is wasting away before his eyes?

I’ve never had a family member, loved one, or friend die slowly.  I’ve only ever experienced accidents, sudden and tragic deaths.  How can anyone handle this feeling of having your hands tied?

resignation letter

Dear Katrina,

I am writing to tell you that I am giving you my two weeks notice.  I wanted to put words to paper as opposed to telling you in person because my level of frustration makes me feel like I can’t communicate what I’d like to say properly.

lackadaisical

I’ve found myself resorting to methods of controlling myself at work that I’ve never had to use before.  Deep breathing, surrounding myself with “good” energy, focusing on something calming, or envisioning how happy I’ll feel once I’ve left the building.

This, in my opinion, is a bad sign.  Of course no one has to like their job, but the fact that I’m trying to tune out reality and focus on something else is not a good thing.  As much as I have disliked other jobs, I’ve never felt the need to escape to another place.  I’m beginning to understand why so many servers have the need to drink or find other recreational drugs.  Escapism from the harsh reality of our meager existence. 

Looong night…

“Do you have diet ginger ale?” the woman asks me, peering over her menu, opened to our drink selections.

“No ma’am, I’m afraid we don’t.”

“Well, I’ll have diet mountain dew.”

“No problem ma’am.”

Same table, 5 minutes later…

“This mountain dew doesn’t taste right.  I’ll have a diet pepsi instead.”

“Of course it doesn’t taste right.  It’s diet mountain dew.  There’s nothing right about that.”