Well, it's another red-letter weekend over here at Laidoffsville. Below are the highlights.
The Big Garage Clean-up
On Saturday I decided to organize the left side of our garage because it's been a big jumbled mess for a few months now and I finally got tired of it.
When Fred saw what I was doing he asked what the trigger was. He hates when I start a project like that because he knows he's going to get sucked into it somehow.
And of course, he would, because there's a box full of stuff he unloaded from his car before we sold it (last summer) that I've been bugging him to sort through. Did I mention since last summer?
But the box wasn't the trigger. I told him the mess was just bugging me and I wanted to get it done. He knows me though. He asked me again what triggered me to suddenly decide this was the day I was going to clean the garage when I hadn't even mentioned it the day before.
He was right. There was a trigger. I was feeling like a complete failure because the day before, I had planned to earn a little money doing some freelance blog post writing. Only I couldn't write. Wasn't feeling it. At all.
So I binge watched The Blacklist instead and then hated myself for it because where is my self-motivation? Then that whole thought process led me to the conclusion that maybe I lack the discipline to be self-employed and work from home and I should just look for another job.
So I got on Craigslist. Hey potential employer, how about you just suck my soul out through my left eye socket for that $10 an hour you're willing to pay?
So then I went back to the writing site and tried it again (because if I'm going to work for peanuts, it may as well be work I enjoy and don't have to shower and get dressed for), and still wasn't feeling it. Then I had an epiphany. And let's see how many sentences I can begin with "so" and "then". Jeez.
My epiphany was this: I'm good at helping others be great, but not at being great myself.
I'm motivated and proactive and all organization and efficiency for an employer, but when the employer is me... I'm pretty much a slacker. How does one fire oneself?
So (the answer is one. One more.) with that, I drank a bottle of wine, had some pizza and called it a night.
Then came Saturday morning (okay, two). I awoke with the innate and overwhelming need to accomplish something. To be great at something. I needed some gratification, dammit.
That was my trigger. After explaining all of this to Fred, he gave me that "what is WRONG with you, woman" look that I'm all too familiar with, and went back to bed.
The garage turned out pretty good. What we really needed was a yard sale, but that wasn't happening right away, so the best I could do was rearrange, throw out, and donate some stuff. The point is... I felt like I accomplished something and that made me feel better about my employability, self or otherwise.
I could end this post here, but I need to tell you about the peppercorns and Coneheads. Because red-letter.
Fred and I went to Winco on Sunday. If you don't know about Winco, it's a grocery store with low prices, great produce, and my favorite - the bin section.
They have an area where they sell all sorts of things out of bins. You scoop out how much you want, put it in a bag, write the code number for the item on the twist tie, and they weigh it and ring it up at check-out. I don't buy everything from the bins, but certain things, like specialty flours, spices, and nuts, are really inexpensive.
Fred hates the bin section. He says the time it takes to scoop and bag is "Twenty minutes of my life that I can't get back."
Nevertheless, I needed peppercorns so we headed to the bins. I had to explain to Fred what peppercorns are and how I put them in my pepper grinder and of course he had to ask, "Wouldn't it be easier to just buy a container of ground pepper?"
He just didn't get it. So while I made him help me scoop, label, and twist tie my little bag of peppercorns, I educated him all about how much cheaper peppercorns were this way and how much better fresh ground pepper is and yada, yada, yada, we finished and went through check-out.
My damn peppercorns were $9.96.
I looked at the receipt and they were over $15 a pound! I went straight to the customer service desk and had them double-check it. Yup, that was the price.
I returned the peppercorns.
Fred gloated all the way home.
So that was my weekend. How was yours?
Your Barely Employable Slacker,
Lori
He was right. There was a trigger. I was feeling like a complete failure because the day before, I had planned to earn a little money doing some freelance blog post writing. Only I couldn't write. Wasn't feeling it. At all.
So I binge watched The Blacklist instead and then hated myself for it because where is my self-motivation? Then that whole thought process led me to the conclusion that maybe I lack the discipline to be self-employed and work from home and I should just look for another job.
So I got on Craigslist. Hey potential employer, how about you just suck my soul out through my left eye socket for that $10 an hour you're willing to pay?
 |
| This is what having your soul sucked out looks like. |
So then I went back to the writing site and tried it again (because if I'm going to work for peanuts, it may as well be work I enjoy and don't have to shower and get dressed for), and still wasn't feeling it. Then I had an epiphany. And let's see how many sentences I can begin with "so" and "then". Jeez.
My epiphany was this: I'm good at helping others be great, but not at being great myself.
I'm motivated and proactive and all organization and efficiency for an employer, but when the employer is me... I'm pretty much a slacker. How does one fire oneself?
So (the answer is one. One more.) with that, I drank a bottle of wine, had some pizza and called it a night.
Then came Saturday morning (okay, two). I awoke with the innate and overwhelming need to accomplish something. To be great at something. I needed some gratification, dammit.
That was my trigger. After explaining all of this to Fred, he gave me that "what is WRONG with you, woman" look that I'm all too familiar with, and went back to bed.
 |
| What is WRONG with you, woman?? |
The garage turned out pretty good. What we really needed was a yard sale, but that wasn't happening right away, so the best I could do was rearrange, throw out, and donate some stuff. The point is... I felt like I accomplished something and that made me feel better about my employability, self or otherwise.
 |
| Not terribly dramatic, but what do you expect from a slacker? |
I could end this post here, but I need to tell you about the peppercorns and Coneheads. Because red-letter.
The Peppercorn Incident
Fred and I went to Winco on Sunday. If you don't know about Winco, it's a grocery store with low prices, great produce, and my favorite - the bin section.
They have an area where they sell all sorts of things out of bins. You scoop out how much you want, put it in a bag, write the code number for the item on the twist tie, and they weigh it and ring it up at check-out. I don't buy everything from the bins, but certain things, like specialty flours, spices, and nuts, are really inexpensive.
Fred hates the bin section. He says the time it takes to scoop and bag is "Twenty minutes of my life that I can't get back."
Nevertheless, I needed peppercorns so we headed to the bins. I had to explain to Fred what peppercorns are and how I put them in my pepper grinder and of course he had to ask, "Wouldn't it be easier to just buy a container of ground pepper?"
He just didn't get it. So while I made him help me scoop, label, and twist tie my little bag of peppercorns, I educated him all about how much cheaper peppercorns were this way and how much better fresh ground pepper is and yada, yada, yada, we finished and went through check-out.
My damn peppercorns were $9.96.
I looked at the receipt and they were over $15 a pound! I went straight to the customer service desk and had them double-check it. Yup, that was the price.
I returned the peppercorns.
Fred gloated all the way home.
The Coneheads
We have a nickname for one of our neighbors that lives up the street. They have young kids and apparently feel that placing a couple cones in the middle of the street means their kids can ride their tricycles and Barbie cars in the middle of the road, with no parental supervision, and be adequately protected from getting hit by a car.
Oh, and to add to the fun, they park their big-ass toy hauler in front of their house and allow their kids to dart out into the street from behind it. Because, you know, the cones are there.
All of this goes on while one parent is either busy doing something inside the toy hauler, or not visible at all, anywhere outside.
A few months ago Fred was driving home one afternoon, going very slowly because he saw the cones, and one of the kids shot out from behind the toy hauler in her Barbie car, right in front of him. Fortunately, Fred was going slow enough that he was able to stop in time. The dad then came running out towards Fred's car, and started yelling at him to be more careful! Fred suggested that, gee, maybe they should supervise their kids.
Despite having that near-miss (and others, I'm sure), they continue to let their kids play in the street. On our way home from the grocery store, sure enough, there was the toy hauler, the cones, and various little kids on little vehicles, including Barbie Knievel.
It was a welcome distraction from Fred's peppercorn gloating, but still... the Coneheads are a source of annoyance. They definitely aren't on our Christmas Cracker list.
So that was my weekend. How was yours?
Your Barely Employable Slacker,
Lori
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