A Turn of the Tides

Today is the last day of my first week on my new job.

I.  Am.  Exhausted.

My commute ranges anywhere from 50 to 100 minutes, each way, depending on the day, the traffic and the route I take.  I’m not complaining, mind you, I’m tremendously grateful.  It’s a good job, with a lot of opportunity for growth and advancement and it couldn’t have come at a better time.  I’m just really tired.

I have less than one month’s expenses left in my savings account and I was moments away from making the dreaded call to my sister to find out if it was still an option for me to move to New York to live with her and her husband, four kids (a fifth on the way), their cat and miniature pony, when I got the call for this job.  It’s the job I referred to in my recent post.  The one I didn’t get.  It seems their first candidate, for whatever reason, didn’t pan out.

Last week, I went shopping to buy appropriate work clothes.  I plan to get promoted sooner rather than later so I’m implementing the “dress for the job you want, not the job you’ve got” philosophy.  And since I didn’t have to wear dress clothes in my last job, it’s been well over a year since I’ve dressed for work (other than the white-dress-shirt-and-black-slacks penguin suit I wear when I’m bartending).

I haven’t gotten up this early on a consistent basis, in a very long time, and tomorrow I have to get up early again, though a little less early.  I’ll probably get to “sleep in” until 7:00. I’m bartending (and lead/sign-in person) tomorrow morning at the Cal football game and I have to be there at 9:00 in the morning.  Tomorrow night I have a date.  That’s a whole different post for another time.  And then Sunday I have an outing with Lil’B.

Who needs rest anyway?

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Mr. On Time Strikes Again

I’m terribly behind in my blog reading and just stumbled upon a prompt from WordPress’ Daily Post from 27 days ago. It’s about unintentional flubs that cause laughter.

Not many people know what spoonerisms are. Simply, spoonerism is when you take two words and swap the first letters. For (a bad) example, butterfly becomes flutterby. (Bad example because it’s technically one word. Whatever. You get the idea.)

When I was in my early teens, my little conservative, Christian family fell into a habit of spoonerizing, a lot. One evening we were all at home in the living room. I think we were about to leave to go out for dinner. My mother was in the process if scolding my eldest sibling for something. I have no idea what. In those days he did a lot to warrant such reprimands.

After my mother made some statement about his behavior, said sibling argued, “you make it sound like I’m a (insert complaint here.)”

“Well, if the shoe fits,” my mother replied.

Without missing a beat, my goodie-two-shoes sister, who had been trying to focus on homework throughout the exchange, without looking up from her textbook said, “or if the foo shits.”

No sooner had the words left her lips, before her head popped up, her jaw dropped, and her face was bright red. Given that she was not prone to such language to begin with, and the amount of spoonerizing that had been going on in the house already, she did not get into any trouble for this apparent slip. This did, however, let the wind out of my mothers sails, and the scolding session was over.

I wonder if the eldest sibling ever thanked my sister.