Currently, I'm on vacation, or staycation, because we are just staying home in our apartment, with no travel plans, nor any other plans, come to think of it. The only hard and fast plan that I did have was to go see Divergent, and to spend the night at my sister's and watch some scary movies, and I've done both (I loved Divergent!). So I have a line of empty days ahead of me and my daughter, who is on spring break.
And that's a good thing, because I was seriously suffering from a strong case of cashier-brain. I was seeing PLU numbers (price look-up codes) every time I shut my eyes. I was hearing that blasted beeping even when I had left the stores, and my last two vivid nightmares had both been about work. That's too much; that is a sign. Marie needs a break, clearly written across my psyche.
Of course, come time for me to take my break, everything starts happening. I have had a shit-storm of bad news that I can't really do anything about, which is one of the worst types of bad news there is. Not being able to do anything kinda makes you feel like a glass of ice water in the North Pole: redundant. All I can do, over and over again, is say how sorry I am and that I'll pray, when I would much rather charge in, fix everything, and have us all live happily ever after. But all I can do is sit here and worry.
And then on top of that, every nuisance task that can manage to rear it's ugly head comes along, such as having to fill out paperwork and provide documentation that your daughter really is your daughter, so that your insurance won't drop her as a dependent on your coverage. I mean, yeah, that's easy enough to prove, but I didn't exactly want to take time from my worry and fret to mess around with my damn insurance, for a matter that I think is a bunch of bullshit at any damn rate. Even if my daughter wasn't my daughter, I still feel that I should be allowed to cover her on my insurance if I want to. But she is my daughter, so the whole mess is just minor aggravation that I'm just shrugging at.
But this is my vacation, so I am making effort to do things that I like, so last night, I stayed up and read Night Broken, which is book number eight in the Mercy Thompson series, and which also happens to be my most favorite urban fantasy series ever. I love Patricia Briggs, and yes, I did sit down and read the book from start to finish, secure in the knowledge that I am on vacation and would be able to sleep in. Most times when I sit down and read a book from start to finish, I read with the guilty knowledge that I am going to be a cashier-zombie in the morning.
My daughter's pretty happy as well, because since we are on vacation, I just feel that she should have new material to read, so she's been coming to me with her Kindle, waiving the thing in my face with books already pulled up on the screen and ready to purchase, begging with her puppy-dog eyes, "Momma, please? Please, Momma?" I'm a sucker for this type of request, so she has scored The Fault With Our Stars, and all three of the books in The Maze Runner trilogy, so far. We are not even halfway through our vacation. She knows that when she asks me for a book, getting a yes is almost guaranteed, unless I truly am broke, and then, I guess I am lucky that she's a good kid, and doesn't give me a hard time about getting a no, because I know that I have spoiled her so far as getting knew books are concerned. I don't feel too badly about this, because I also know that I can be very strict about other things, and I do feel that while we really need to provide rules and boundaries for our kids, a small amount of spoiling never hurt anything, especially when you are talking about books.
I did think I would write a little more than I have, but honestly, right now I am at a bit of a loss for topics. My mind keeps circling around that bad news that I have received -- my damn mind is like a freaking vulture and it's pissing me off, but what can you do when you get pissed at your own mind? And these topics are topics that I don't really feel at leisure to discuss, because frankly, they aren't my business to discuss, and if there is one thing I want to avoid, being the writer who writes about everyone else's business is one of them. I do NOT want people - friends and family - to feel like they can't talk to me about private things because they are worried they will show up in my blog. But at the moment, this does leave me without a topic, and thus you all get treated to this wandering ramble. Happy staycation to me, and if nothing else, may I be cured from the cursed cashier-brain.
And that's a good thing, because I was seriously suffering from a strong case of cashier-brain. I was seeing PLU numbers (price look-up codes) every time I shut my eyes. I was hearing that blasted beeping even when I had left the stores, and my last two vivid nightmares had both been about work. That's too much; that is a sign. Marie needs a break, clearly written across my psyche.
Of course, come time for me to take my break, everything starts happening. I have had a shit-storm of bad news that I can't really do anything about, which is one of the worst types of bad news there is. Not being able to do anything kinda makes you feel like a glass of ice water in the North Pole: redundant. All I can do, over and over again, is say how sorry I am and that I'll pray, when I would much rather charge in, fix everything, and have us all live happily ever after. But all I can do is sit here and worry.
And then on top of that, every nuisance task that can manage to rear it's ugly head comes along, such as having to fill out paperwork and provide documentation that your daughter really is your daughter, so that your insurance won't drop her as a dependent on your coverage. I mean, yeah, that's easy enough to prove, but I didn't exactly want to take time from my worry and fret to mess around with my damn insurance, for a matter that I think is a bunch of bullshit at any damn rate. Even if my daughter wasn't my daughter, I still feel that I should be allowed to cover her on my insurance if I want to. But she is my daughter, so the whole mess is just minor aggravation that I'm just shrugging at.
But this is my vacation, so I am making effort to do things that I like, so last night, I stayed up and read Night Broken, which is book number eight in the Mercy Thompson series, and which also happens to be my most favorite urban fantasy series ever. I love Patricia Briggs, and yes, I did sit down and read the book from start to finish, secure in the knowledge that I am on vacation and would be able to sleep in. Most times when I sit down and read a book from start to finish, I read with the guilty knowledge that I am going to be a cashier-zombie in the morning.My daughter's pretty happy as well, because since we are on vacation, I just feel that she should have new material to read, so she's been coming to me with her Kindle, waiving the thing in my face with books already pulled up on the screen and ready to purchase, begging with her puppy-dog eyes, "Momma, please? Please, Momma?" I'm a sucker for this type of request, so she has scored The Fault With Our Stars, and all three of the books in The Maze Runner trilogy, so far. We are not even halfway through our vacation. She knows that when she asks me for a book, getting a yes is almost guaranteed, unless I truly am broke, and then, I guess I am lucky that she's a good kid, and doesn't give me a hard time about getting a no, because I know that I have spoiled her so far as getting knew books are concerned. I don't feel too badly about this, because I also know that I can be very strict about other things, and I do feel that while we really need to provide rules and boundaries for our kids, a small amount of spoiling never hurt anything, especially when you are talking about books.
I did think I would write a little more than I have, but honestly, right now I am at a bit of a loss for topics. My mind keeps circling around that bad news that I have received -- my damn mind is like a freaking vulture and it's pissing me off, but what can you do when you get pissed at your own mind? And these topics are topics that I don't really feel at leisure to discuss, because frankly, they aren't my business to discuss, and if there is one thing I want to avoid, being the writer who writes about everyone else's business is one of them. I do NOT want people - friends and family - to feel like they can't talk to me about private things because they are worried they will show up in my blog. But at the moment, this does leave me without a topic, and thus you all get treated to this wandering ramble. Happy staycation to me, and if nothing else, may I be cured from the cursed cashier-brain.
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