Smoothy Smootherson

 A week has passed since I received the terrible text and man, it took a minute to recover from seeing it. Things are great now, but wow, that was a blow. 

Life continues, with tighter boundaries for some people. 

In other news, we hired a new supervisor to replace me, someone from the bookstore, and I'm relieved that my time as interim supervisor is almost at an end. 

Also, Hubby and I have a trip to Salt Lake City planned for the week after Thanksgiving, and I'm excited to head down there and have some chill time at MIL's home (she is currently recovering at a rehabilitation center from a broken leg) and see everything again. 

Then, at the end of February, Hubby's third (of three) work leadership conference is happening in Atlanta, and we'll be flying there and spending almost a week. We also have a trip planned to Seattle, by train, to see a musical we've been told is great - Come From Away - and it's showing during my birthday weekend, so that'll be fun. 

Looking forward to the holidays, as well as being done with this lovely position. I've learned a lot and feel more competent in quite a few areas of the bookstore, but I have no desire to ever supervise anyone ever again. It's just not something I care about doing. 

Gobsmacked

This afternoon, while on the commute home with Hubby, I was sent a text by a family member that they received from another family member, regarding my horrible brother. You know the one. 

It was shockingly cruel. I couldn't breathe, and almost started hyperventilating right there on Interstate 84. I don't know that I will ever forget that experience as long as I live. I'll remember right where we were, when I first read that horrible thing.

Canceled dinner with Taylor. Put myself to bed as soon as we arrived home. Had Hubby bring me KFC for dinner in bed. 

I know there are people going through experiences worse than this one - I just don't know them personally. Not that we're comparing, but it's just so bad. 

That sentencing judge was spot on - this brother dropped a bomb on our family. We'll never be the same.

I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM.

My brother is a piece of garbage who ruined our family. 

The Wire-Haired Man Goblin

 ...was the nickname our friend Charles had for his second wife (he's now on Wife #3), and I feel it fits perfectly here. 

Today WHMG2 (aka Tamponica) threw a fit because the holiday postage stamps hadn't been ordered by now. I pushed back, nicely, as I've found that this is the way to deal with her. She had no clue that this is the usual time of year that they're ordered - actually, it's closer to Veterans Day, which is on the 11th - and asked me when they were ordered last year, like I would know. Last year, and every year since I've worked here, it's been Dan's job.

It's just more proof that for the most part, she has absolutely no clue how to do anything in this bookstore. It's also another sign that 

I DODGED A MAJOR BLONDE BULLET

and I continue to have absolutely zero regret for not applying for this position. Because PUKE.

Meanwhile, Dan ventured up and vented that wow, she is really on one today - she caught him chatting with Ryan, for all of 30 seconds, and he was rewarded with a nice crusty dirty look from her. You know it's bad when Dan adds to the complaints. Normally he gives everyone a pass. 

Otherwise, it's been a great day. Kyle and I continue to wonder who will soon be our new supervisor. Earlier today I had some intel that forty-one folks applied for the position, and nineteen were selected for interviewing. That number will hopefully bump up to twenty, as one of our bookstore coworkers was originally sifted out due to his perceived lack of leadership experience. We know he would be great, but the almighty HR didn't agree, so Heidi was hoping to change their minds. Here's hoping.