Day Twenty Seven

I think this officially is the longest consecutive streak of blog posts for me in three years (counting the old blog, but I think I get to, as technically it all was "If It Was That Simple").

Not that any of them contain any real substantive info, but at least I have managed to burn the calories that the typing requires, right?

The knee was killing me today (t-minus 2.5 months until I feel sure enough about my job being covered that I can take the time off to get it fixed), and then my idiot boss decides to lay into me about something that wasn't my fault and I could not fix.

I cut her off, and said one very simple thing. "Hey, I didn't fuck that up, and if I had, I MIGHT sit through this lecture. But last time I checked, that wasn't my job and I can't affect the people who do that job, so save your fucking tirade for them."

I think that may have pissed her off a bit. Good. Serves the bitch right.

In retrospect perhaps telling her to "save her fucking tirade" might get me a bit of a scowl from her boss if she presses the issue, but I really don't care. I'm playing hurt, and still doing a better job than anyone else on my team (which is the reason that I don't want to take three weeks off).

They're damned if they let me get away with it, because it asserts my power over the people who are sure that they have power over me...
They're damned if they do even the slightest thing about it, because then I take three weeks that they have to give me at any time I ask, and they're even more screwed than if they had just let me do whatever the fuck I want.

I'm bulletproof.

Or at least bullet resistant...

Unfortunately I am not tired resistant, and I am off to bed. G'nite all.