Skip to main content

Black Friday

Not sure why they call it that.....and don't feel inclined to google it either.

I overslept and was late to work. My boss (me) was not happy and although I have no fear of being fired, I do fear she will force me to work overtime today to make up for my lack of punctuality.

I took the ENTIRE day off yesterday! My fingers did not touch a keyboard for over 24 hours. And lo, the world did not cease to exist. Miracle of miracles!

We went up to Seattle and had Thanksgiving with the family. Good food, good times.

Came home and cleaned up the kitchen from the previous night's pumpkin/cherry pie baking frenzy and spent the remainder of the evening reading! Yes! It was heaven. Hubby asked me how I could stand to read when my entire life seems consumed by words. How could I want to read when I spend all day writing? I explained that it's a different dynamic. I get to be entertained, rather than be the one entertaining. I'm taken away and relaxed.

It's all good.

Ok, back to work before the boss finds out I'm taking a quick break to write this. I'm working from the kawfeee shop again in order to avoid the children who won't leave me be at home.

Comments

  1. Shame on you treating your employer like that, taking liberties.
    *** Sigh!***

    ReplyDelete
  2. I know! I'm a bad employee, but I know that I'm indispensable. She can't fire me. If she did, her business would die.

    I'm here to stay! :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.


The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…

Back

BACK

Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
(all rights reserved)