The Wonderful Chaos of Daily Life . . . also I am not a doormat!

Sickness. I can't decide whether I love or hate it. Mostly, it's a pain in the derriere,  to be sure, but there's something so satisfying about curling up in bed in the middle of the day and letting sweet, drug-induced sleep take me over. I've had a nagging cough for the past few weeks, at first shrugging it off as allergies. Unfortunately I could feel my chest starting to crackle and rattle late last week, so I finally sucked it up and went to the Dr. last Wednesday, even if it did mean making my day over 14 hours long from waking up to pulling back into the driveway. Turns out I have acute infectious bronchitis and get to spend 5 days on Z-Pack and even longer on Cheratussin, huzzah for me! Even with the meds, I showed up to work last Thursday morning feeling less than stellar and on a most unfortunate high from the cough syrup. After two hours, Strawberry and Student (who is back for the summer and working with us most days, which is a really good thing) were telling me they were about ready to drag me out and take me home themselves, as I sounded worse today than I did the day before. I at least stayed until after Shorty had gotten there and I finished putting up the drug order, but I was quickly and gently bullied out the door by the four people who had listened to me hack all morning. The Cranky Pharmacist™ even gave me a pack of his Oreos. I truly do have some good people back there in the Funny Pharm, I can't stress that enough. Especially since these are the very same people who have been bristling and bitching about Dixie's constant new calling in habit and doubting all of her mounting excuses. At least two days a week for the past three weeks, she's been calling out. She's claimed migraines, food poisoning, no gas money (and apparently no forethought on getting a ride), and then a cold. Although we know for a fact she was gone Monday because she'd taken a friend on a road trip! And she almost always calls out on days she knows another technician is off or on vacation, leaving us incredibly short-staffed. Frankly, we're all fed up with it and no longer care if she's legitimately sick or not. She also continues to make poor spending choices and then asks the rest of us for money! No, I will not buy you cigarettes. If you can't afford to put gas in your vehicle or food on the table, you can't afford to smoke, I'm sorry. There have also been days she showed up to work without showering first, judging by the smell. Strawberry was at the point of retching and gagging one day, she admitted to me quietly, and you could see she was having a hard time with it by the look on her face. Boss is transferring another technician over from another store, the same one Strawberry came from. While at times this is going to no doubt have us grossly over-staffed and tripping over each other, it will also help on the days Dix chooses to screw the rest of us over for whatever reason. We might have been good friends once, but things have gotten so out of hand, and I'm to the point I am just going to try to have as little contact as possible without seeming rude. My recent breathing issues are excuse enough not to sit with her at lunch anymore when we share a shift; better to be in my truck or inside in the cool air conditioning than outside in the cigarette smoke. And truth be told, the only reason I ever started going out there in the first place was because of Pippy, and seeing as how he works the butt-crack-of-dawn to afternoon shift, our breaks are never together anymore anyways. Dix has issues, to be sure, but as she obviously doesn't want to downsize her life or change the unhealthy lifestyle, I'm done messing with her. I don't want to be mean, but I really have no place in my life for leeches, either.

As of today, I've missed two half-days in two years of work. As we work in a pharmacy, constantly surrounded by sick people all the time, no one blinks if you show up with a cold, so long as you're not throwing up, running a fever, or have something highly contagious.

A slight edit - I started writing this post over a week ago, and since then have learned that Dix and her husband have apparently had the final childish blowout we've all been bracing ourselves for, for about the past year and are headed for the big D. Since Friday she's been posting all sorts of emotional nonsense about the world crashing down and being broken-hearted and other such crap. Friday night Karla, who also works at the store and lives next to me (of the infamous costume party last December) went and picked her up, meaning Dix is currently. Residing. Next. Fucking. Door. No. No, no, this is bad. She's already tried getting me to come over there several times with all sorts of weird excuses, and I reluctantly went for about 5 minutes Saturday after work. She said if Karla hadn't gotten her, she probably would have killed herself Friday night. But this close or no, I have no intentions of helping her anymore. Karla texted me earlier asking when I was working tomorrow - I have the sneaking suspicion her houseguest needs a ride to work, but I'm going to bust one of the ten commandments and say either that my phone was dead or I left it in my truck as the reason I never answered. Does this make me a cold-hearted bitch? Maybe, but I don't think so, and I feel bad for Karla getting caught up in this, too. I wonder how long it'll take her to yank back the welcome mat. Dix has continuously made horrible choices with her money, her health, and her personal relationships. There are only so many cell phone plans, salon visits, and dining out bills you can blow money on before it runs out and suddenly your electricity is being shut off for non-payment. No one is going to feel sorry for your constant migraines and breathing issues while you suck down over a pack a day in cigs. And there are only so many times you can ask a friend for money, ask for a ride on short notice (we all said no), or let us know you DON'T need a ride after we've already inconvenienced ourselves into getting up and leaving early to come and get your sorry butt. I don't know what the ultimate issue was with her and her husband, but I can't blame him for leaving. He's no angel, either - they both act like spoiled, irresponsible children and I wouldn't stay with either of them. And frankly he was probably more disgusted at her lack of hygiene than we are. I don't care who you are or if you're the best looking person on the planet, you NEED to bathe. You NEED to change out the litterbox if you have a cat in the house! Was I beyond giddy to crawl up in bed with Pippy last month? You betcha! But if he'd smelled like old fish and urine and catbox, no way in hell. No way in hell I'd go anywhere near him, actually.  No one can help someone that refuses to help themselves, and we've all pretty much decided to pull the plug. She needs to get off her ass and get professional help, shrinks we are not. I'm not a cold hearted person, please don't get me wrong. I'm just so worn out on this particular human being. If she ends up getting fired, I'd feel a little bad, but she will have had it coming. A part of me actually wishes Boss would fire her so I wouldn't have to deal with her anymore. Avoiding her on a personal level is easy, but when we're stuck in the pill box together all week, well, that makes it a little hard. But she's an emotional vampire and it's time to put on the garlic and hold out my cross, so to speak.

Anywho, that's what's been bugging me as of late. And I ended up having to call my Dr. back Thursday because I'd finished the Z-pack and was still coughing like a smoker. Raj got on my case about it Monday, saying it should have cleared up by then. Fortunately they called me in ten days of Keflex and it's been doing what the Azithromycin didn't, and I'm almost 100% myself again.

As for my fretting about Pip, once again my fears were unfounded and we're still buddies as usual, although it is surprisingly even easier to talk to him now than before. Maybe curling up with someone tends to have that effect on a relationship, platonic or not. See how clueless I am about these things? 28 and still figuring out the finer points of silly stuff like this. He's still kind of flaky, but I've just come to accept it for now. I invited him to come to the movies with me and nephew today, and yesterday his answer was yes, but today it was "I can't make it, got something in Hicktown I have to do". It doesn't piss me off or hurt me when he does this anymore. 9 times out of ten he doesn't come to things he's invited to, but I do enjoy the 1/10 that he comes through on. He has other friends and family and situations in his life to attend to. And after the drama of Dix the past few weeks, I'd sooner keep him in my circle of friends, flakes and all, than have someone needy and clingy and always asking for favors or money; at least he doesn't smother me with melodrama. Bitch and gripe and finally laugh it off over a drink, and he's good. I'd still love to have something more with him, but if that doesn't happen, that's ok. Truth be told, I think he does have 'more than friend' leanings towards me, but he shows all the signs of someone who got burned real good once or twice and has sworn to never let it happen again. So I just wave at him when I walk into work in the mornings, and he'll grin and wave back, usually with a banana or a tomato in his hand. Whether we hang out outside work or he turns down an invitation, I'll back off from him for a few weeks and hold off on the invites lest he pulls Walker's "Suspicious Horse Keeps His Distance" act and pretends I don't exist for a while. But like I said, I think I'll keep him.

It's odd. I'd gladly give Pip the food off my plate or the shirt off my back, metaphorically speaking, if he needed it, yet never once has he asked me for anything, anything, or taken me up on offers of help or a shoulder to cry on, while I wish Dixie would grow the eff up and go away, and she just takes and takes and asks and asks and never offers anything back. Spending any amount of time with her leaves me drained and depressed, albeit I do feel great about myself and grateful I'm not a mess like she is. Spending time with Pip  usually leaves me feeling upbeat, happy, and a little cheeky. And sometimes a little hungover, but hey, at least he smells pretty fantastic and makes frequent use of a shower and a washing machine. 

So by the time the bar closes/and you feel like falling down/I'll carry you home tonight

Wherein I am entirely pathetic. Last night, I went to visit Pip and Johnny's place. During a thunderstorm so strong it felt like I was driving into the pit of hell. And it turns out, they're still living in a motel room, poor things. I thought they had a place by now, but they'll be moving out Wednesday, fortunately. But we'd been trying to get together for a while and since we both had Monday off, he said I could come over and share his whiskey. Wonderful conversation lubricant, that stuff. Lord, the man can go off on a bitch rant like no one else, but then again, so can I, and it felt pretty good. It also turns out he cleared up and denied SO many disgusting rumors about him and the nasty girl in his department, without me even asking - she came to mind apparently while he was on his nonstop vent. It would seem she downloaded pictures of him in a swimming pool from his Facebook, put them on her phone and was showing them around to people like she had been with him and taken them. She also told our mutual friend D, who was good friends with Pippy, that she needed to "stay away from him", and told several people that she and Pip were sexually involved. This is the same one that is constantly giving me stinkeye. He says there's never been anything between them whatsoever and is thoroughly creeped out by the stalkerish behavior.

By the end of that conversation, I was pretty elated, and he'd started posting pictures of us to FB and showed me pictures on his phone of everything from his new great niece to a newborn kitten he saved to his daughter's prom pictures. Another drink and a while later and he wasn't comfortable with the idea of me driving home, besides the fact it was nearly 2AM. "If you're staying, you need to get on that side of the bed. No, I don't mind, it's better and safer than a DUI."  I don't sleep well away from home, I'll openly admit. I no longer go to Dixie's house mostly for this reason, besides the fact she snores like a cave troll, leaves the TV on full blast all night, and the apartment reeks of stale smoke and unchanged cat litter. I was struck with insomnia once again last night, but   . . . here comes the sap -

sleep eluding me was quite lovely this go round. I really kind of hated myself for it, but I spent a good chunk of last night simply watching him sleep, watching his chest rise and fall. And then there's the sound of snoring. This is #1 on my list of most annoying, nerve-wracking, rage-inducing sounds ever. Ever. And yet I was laying there in complete bliss, even after he rolled over and was half on top of me with his mouth inches away from my face, emitting the noise that irks me the most in the world. I probably shouldn't have drank so much and shouldn't have crawled under his covers like that. But I've gotten so tired of dreaming, and let myself have this pitiful little pleasure, just this once. Pathetic, desperate, hanging onto what is probably not there. Actually the longer I think about it, I really, really shouldn't have done this, and he probably thinks I'm weird. Or then again, I could be over thinking things again. I'm sure it's not the first time a friend has had too much and ended up passed out beside him. It was unsurprising, yet disturbing how I could just glance over and stare at him, completely at ease, and feel so happy. And yet . . . well, it's a 'so close but so far' kind of feeling. I want this, all the time. For it not to be a guilty pleasure to discover we'd somehow gotten pressed up against each other in the night, but for it to be on purpose. It's the most bizarre kind of relationship, yet I haven't felt more content than last night, insomnia or no, with my produce guy asleep beside me and Johnny in the next bed with a clumsy, 10 week old Labrador mix nestled into the covers with him.

And that's aside from the fact I kept having an arm thrown haphazardly over me or finding one of his legs between mine. I'm not sure if he was just that comfortable or if it's a sign that it's been a long time since he shared a bed.

No one really needs to know I stayed all night, and fortunately there was no shitstorm awaiting me at home when I pulled up this morning for spending the night in a motel room with two men.

 I did offer to take Pippy out this morning but he declined and said he'd rather head to the gym. Which, by the way, he thinks I should show up at once in a while, ensuring me that people of all disciplines go there and don't really judge or pay much attention to each other. It's not that I don't want to, I'm just terrified of other people seeing me and how out of shape I am. But I can work out at home until then.

I just wish I could work out what the hell I did last night and why.