As many of you know, I don't really like working. At least not here where I do. It's stressful, there are some long hours that take me away from my family, and, well, the pay isn't the greatest for someone with my education/experience/sparkling personality.
And no benefits.
(I know - does anyone really like working? Like, those of you who work outside the home, would you, if you didn't absolutely have to for a roof over your head?)
I do like some of the work I do, just not all of it. And I do like the people I work with. Just not all the stress involved. And yes, I know that every job has stress. And that there are some very positive aspects to my working here.
Anyway - every time I get good and disgusted, guess what happens.
I get a raise.
That I didn't ask for.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I'm just saying.
The boss's wife (who's really the one in charge) just came in and told me I'm getting a raise. I just got one about six months ago. Didn't ask for that one, either, but I found out later that my general manager did on my behalf.
Before that, I'd had one about a year earlier, when I finished a course they sent me to, and another one about six months before that when I started in this position.
So now, I'm all, "OK, God, are you trying to tell me that this is where you want me? Because a raise is a pretty great way to get that message across!"
Add that to the news I got this morning that Amanda has found a really great place to live, and a really really close (like 15 votes and they're still counting the affidavit ballots) primary election from last night, and it's all a bit much to digest.
All I need now is to finally get past this weight-loss plateau, and I think I'll be done.