Take That, Grumpus!!!

Today dawned misty and foreboding but it has turned into a glorious and sunny day and I’m very pleased about that. I adore the fall season. When it’s sunny the bright colors absolutely thrill me and the chilly air is not yet so cold that it makes your face feel like it’s going to fall off. I’m a very happy camper right this second.

I am currently at work (yes, blogging at work. Yes, using Microsoft Word to shield my true off-taskness from prying eyes. And finally, yes, I’m OK with it) and we have a new HR person who just started yesterday. It’s been a real trial for me in the patience department. She is bright and pleasant but I hadn’t realized a person could ask so many questions!

She is also realizing the inherent frustration that goes along with this job. My employers are very specific, and I mean VERY specific about the kind of people they are looking for and there is no wiggle room in the candidate qualifications. She is going through what I went through when I kept trying to fight the system and asking “Why can’t it be done this way?”. It feels like being a fly and constantly beating your head against the side of the jar you live in. It hurts and it’s pointless. I have found that it’s generally best to adopt a kind of dull resignation and just go with the flow, however nonsensical and utterly ridiculous that flow may be on any given day.

Another thing that’s utterly ridiculous: dog treats! Wes and I ventured to PetSmart on Sunday to buy our little Western troublemaker a new collar and leash. While we were perusing the dog treats I was dumbfounded at how any company can justify charging an exorbitant amount of money for what is essentially animal by-products. I mean, seriously, a $5 chewie stick-bone-thing? Doc can go through one of those in about 30 seconds. That’s one of the most expensive 30-second experiences ever! Our flight to Mexico isn’t even going to cost that much!

Additionally, they now have these gourmet bones that are stuffed with fillings to make them tastier, apparently. Like ham hocks stuffed with cheese and beef. The cheese is hard and the whole thing looks a lot like orange cement set in a fugly brown vase. First of all, those are sure to make me want to vomit every time I look at them. Second, my dog eats his own feces. I really don’t feel the need to glam up what he eats seeing as how the bar for what he considers palatable is set pretty low.

It amuses me that now that we’ve been dog owners for 3 whole months Wes and I are so jaded that we bought him a new collar that is too big, knowing that he’ll grow into it, as opposed to buying him a medium one now and a large one later. Back in the beginning we might have bought him a nasty cheese ham hock confection from the Delicatessen of the Macabre but now we figure he’s just going to have to be OK with eating the rawhide rolls we’ve supplied for him. He’s pretty much just happy to be where we are, chewies or no chewies.

By the way: my boss just snapped at me for locking the door to the empty office while I escorted New Girl upstairs to the kitchen. Apparently, being considerate is not one of our company’s goals. So now I’m deriving a fierce joy (the kind that can only come from minor subterfuge) from blogging at work. Ahh, strong work ethic, I never knew ye.

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