Wednesday, July 3, 2013

mean KYLady

If tomorrow were not a holiday, I’d slit my wrists. Returning to work from a week of vacation has not been pretty. No sir. There’s nothing about it that I want to be part of….except for the paycheck aspect of having a job. Damn. I hate working for a living. It’s not that I want to be a trophy wife because, really, even the trophies have to put up with their husbands 24X7; it's their job (and not likely to be a picnic in the park all the time, no doubt). If I were dependent on my husband for money, I’d feel obligated to be nice to him….rather than just being nice because I want to be nice. Maybe I’m just not predisposed to being very nice. Poor Someone, stuck with me. Not really…nobody is really stuck, but sticking it out is sometimes better than alternatives.

Unlike me, vacation was very nice. Not much sunshine, but it turned out OK anyway. We visited Myrtle Beach (again) which is Someone’s most favorite place in all the world. This is not the usual time we go.  Emily has cheerleading camp and practices so we had to take vacation now or not at all.  Someone will take another vacation in a few weeks without us and hang with his family (clan) at the beach house they always rent. Good for him! Erin didn’t want to go without Emily, and anyway, she has lined up some babysitting and tutoring jobs for the rest of the summer. Good for her! Because I won’t be in Myrtle Beach the weekend of the Fiddler’s Convention (our usual week), I will get to watch Sarah sing and perform. Good for me!!! Everyone wins this year.

We had lots of rainy days and evenings during vacation, but there was always at least a brief opportunity to walk the beach and play in the waves every day, even if only for 30 minutes between thunderstorms. We picked up shark teeth on the beach, shopped, read, watched movies, worked a couple of jigsaw puzzles together, played miniature golf, visited a museum dedicated to UFO sightings, and visited Ripley’s Aquarium. We collected enough shark teeth to almost build a new shark. I played my guitar most evenings, so I’m glad I threw it into the van at the last minute.

Do sharks need better dental hygiene?

We stopped by a great zoo on the way down. It’s in Ashboro, North Carolina. I love good zoos, and this one is spectacular. Lots of long winding paths through the woods, rocks everywhere, beautiful flowers and bushes, no prison-like cages (animals probably disagree with me on that one), and great exhibits of primates. I love apes. The gorillas had some adorable babies, but my photos sucked so none are worth publishing. I like looking at the rocks, plants, and sculptures as much I like looking at the animals. If I lived near a zoo, I would volunteer to work there.

Zoo trail

Anyway, the dean finally signed off on my dissertation and now the ball is in my court again. It’s time to reformat the whole thing for publication. Most universities just have you format the paper for publication to begin with, but for whatever reason, my university wants to be different (more difficult, extra work for candidates). I will reformat the damn thing, my chairman will pretend to look it over and approve it, and then I’ll send it in and wait for the dean’s approval (AGAIN). If he blesses it, he will process me for completion, conferral, and graduation. Hopefully this will all happen before I die of old age.

By the way, I probably wouldn’t slit my wrists. It’s much too messy and dramatic.


Linda Twaddle said...

I'm nice when things go my way. I am not sure what I am when things don't my way. Pretend nice or something which is quite different.

Holidays seem short lived. The planning of a holiday and then the reflecting afterwards extends the holiday which is nice.

Work is definitely a means to an end. Although, I expect I would be having to fill my time quite well or I may be a bit tense.

KYLady said...

If we live long enough to retire, every day will be like a holiday. It’s hard to imagine living that life, but it seems to me that people who have the most free time are not good at managing their time. There will be no clocks or calendars in my paradise. I expect to become a terrible manager of time when I’m old and senile (and repeating stories).