It's that time of the month again.
I hate that time of the month.
My back hurts.
I'm dog tired.
And not just any dog either, but one of those fugly Chinese Crested dogs.
What was that? I should keep my female problems to myself?
What are you talking...?
Oh. Where's your mind at?
I'm not talking about that!
I'm talking about Changeover Tuesday. The special level of hell reserved for Music Department Managers. Dante's editor made him cut that part out of his little poem...thought it wouldn't be exciting enough.
Let ME tell you about it.
On the first (and sometimes the second like yesterday's was) Tuesday of every month, I have to change out every promotion and display in my department. I don't mean to brag about the size of my department, but it's pretty damn skippy.
What does changeover day consist of? A lot of bending, squatting, scurrying, lifting, toting, and peeling. Like Zumba, but without the cute music and there's less ass shaking.
Picture someone untying a helium-filled balloon, and letting it go. The balloon fartily swirls around the room in an unpredictable frenzy, before coming to a sad, limp, wrinkly, deflated demise on the ground.
That's me on changeover (except I'm way less farty). For 10 hours straight. Half an inch of cheap rubber between my feet and the concrete floor. Needy customers. No coffee breaks.
What brought this on besides my penchant for complaining?
Tracy @ Gardening Obsession asked me if I was ever "not funny".
You guys know me by now, I have to crack a joke at everything. I leap at the chance to make a witty quip.
The Humour Hamster is constantly sprinting on his little wheel in my head.
On one Tuesday of every month he gets tired of my shit, quits running, packs up his little hamster-sized suitcase and tells me he's going to stay at his mother's.
For that entire day, I'm a black hole of humour. People orbit tentatively around me, for fear of being sucked into oblivion.
For example, I could totally make some immature joke about that last sentence, but it's just not in me on changeover day.
I don't like being like this. It just doesn't feel natural. What's a girl to do?
Beg. Lots of begging.
I went over to his mother's last night, and bribed Hammy with a present. He came back to me.
"I'm sorreh babeh, I'll never do it again! Come home to Mama!"
And I'm back! The sense of humour's BACK! If you listen very closely, you can hear the squeak of the wheel...
Till next month. *sigh*
I totally shouldn't be complaining. It's storming outside (finally!), and I have two days off. I'll be able to get into my garden to weed. Or nap if I want to, which is more likely.
And I have better luck than my new garden buddy Zoe @ Pearled Earth. Murphy's Law? Murph really got her good the other day. Go read that post, she's hilarious and is one of my new favourite blogs to follow.