I’ve Been One poor Correspondent… in General

I don’t write here much. My brain is tired, and while I have a lot to talk about I rarely have the energy by the time I leave work.

Work is interestingly exhausting…

No two projects are the same – everything is a “one off.” Me and my counterpart were fairly cackling at some of the shit the systems engineers were trying to pull off. They tried to circumvent the change system, realized they fucked something up, then put out a change to a change that doesn’t exist because they tried to trick fuck the system.
We don’t even know how the cobbled together workorder process is going to handle that.

Hours are fairly flexible. If I have an appointment in the afternoon, I can go in early to minimize how much PTO I have to take. Being a new hire, I have fairly limited PTO. Since I am only planning on being there 12 years, I will never really accrue the monstrous hours of PTO the long termers get.

All said, I work with a highly specialized crew – most of whom have been there forever. Three do change management, two of us (Me and D) do pre-adjudicated and post adjudicated change, and one guy does shit the Navy doesn’t want to pay for. His job gives me headaches and we sit in different cubicles.

We do a “Muster” – essentially a staff meeting every day at 1230 – right after lunch.

Usually, it is in a room at the front of the building. So, heading toward that room is like swimming upstream.

You never know if the room is double booked – it is a common occurrence for two different meetings to show up at the same time. So I go into low holding outside the door.

This is in the “airlock” – the area where you have to swipe in through the first door, then swipe in through the second door. Between the two swipe doors is a conference room.

The airlock is all glass – so you can see people coming and going, and I have no doubt there are cameras everywhere.

So hanging in low holding for the muster I catch sight of an exquisite blonde. J – the guy whose job gives me a headache was walking toward the door

After a perfunctory muster we arrive back in the office. I whisper-ask J. “Who was that blonde?”

“You mean the one with the nice pants?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t know, but she works in CM. I told you - you need to get up there to pester them. Now you have an excuse.”

Okay, there are three hotties in CM. But I. Can. Learn. Lessons.

Behind me George Snuffleupagus is paddling as fast as he can to make the indictment of Trump into something more than it is. “No one is above the law.” Oh, fucking shut up. The Clintoons, The Biden crime family. The Cuomos. Shitbirds everywhere. ABC is nothing but a political shill for democrats. If Trump ends up as the republican candidate in the next election I’ll vote for him as a double barreled fuck you to all the Trump-Deranged assholes in this country. I don’t particularly like him, but I can’t argue with his policies.

Breath, breath.

Monday aka tomorrow I get together with my bank guy. I now have a bank guy. And a Real Estate Gal (I also have a primary care doc, a cardiologist, a dermatologist, a dermatological oncologist, a gastroenterologist, and a cardio-thoracic surgeon. As well as a Lawyer and a partridge in a pear tree.)

I’ll be under contract. Hopefully closing on August 4th – because in his last conversation with the owner of this place, G said an early August closing is acceptable. I was planning on taking the 4th off anyway. My birthday being the 6th – I was planning on a 4 day weekend. Then the fun begins. The seller is essentially paying for the closing, but afterward I am on the hook for not only the mortgage, but the utilities and HOA. I can easily swing it with the new gig.

Still gotta figure out what I am going to do to celebrate my 61st trip around the sun. It’s a toss up between getting a flight with Maine Coastal and going skydiving. Leaning towards a flight. I still want to fly a Cirrus. From there web site it looks like the Cirrus is in Bar Harbor – about 2 hours away.

Things to add to the list.

I only check in here on occasion, and truthfully cannot keep up with everyone. Back in the bad old OD days I tried to keep up with about 150 people – most of whom I eventually talked with on the phone.

My circle is much smaller now.

It dawned on me Audrey’s birthday is coming up. I will ache for that girl until the day I die.

Also. Her son is now in his twenties and her daughter in her late teens. Life turning out the way it did, I suppose I dodged a bullet. Otherwise, I would be dealing with all the drama in their lives. But. I’d still have my blonde angel.

Oh well.