A busy night at work. Busier than the weekend in fact, with fewer staff, but we cope fine.
The owner, he's asking about my vacation plans, he's future plans for me, he asks if my benefits have been sorted yet, and it's all uncomfortable because I haven't yet told him that I'm not returning.
It's the Stockholm Syndrome, this, the false sense of loyalty to lost causes.
I don't know what to say, there's "Promotions" - of a sort, in store, increased responsibilities, and I'm loathe to accept them, I won't be here, and bloody hell I don't know what to say...
I haven't even the excuse of another, a better job, it's just the fact that I know I can't go on like this.
***
Home after work, boot computer, forgot I'd run CHKDSK. Which runs and takes half an hour to boot, the volume is dirty (and I thought it was me...), a reminder that I should be backing up my data. I'll back it up tomorrow.
The cat finds me waiting on the sofa, hops upon my chest, it's been awhile since I've petted her and so we begin, scratching her belly, playing, we have a game we play most nights when I go to bed, stupid cat game where I make a cave with the duvet and the cat crawls in to explore....Stupid cat game.
***
And the other armchair, the one that didin't sell (the first one did, if you're curious, for $20.00), it's going as well, fortunately to the same buyer, she's going to take on the challenge of reupholstering it, I didn't like to see it there, lonely in the living room, and so I'm pleased that they'll be together, matching, again.
***
I've emptied my inbox, a few shortcuts, few accidental deletes and I'm on top of my game. Well, not really, but there's something that's so pristine, pure, enviable, Zen about an empty inbox. It pleases me. And there's something about an empty inbox that begs other people to fill it with inane requests, fortunately not too many tonight. It's empty again.
And that's the day.