Cojones

I went to the hardware stores (Lowes) after work today and bought all my plywood and screws and things to get started. It made me feel so ballsy, not in a masculine way but there's not enough words; to spend seventy bucks on heavy wood when I haven't the faintest idea what I'm doing...adventurous and charging-ahead. I must say I get better service there when I'm alone than when D is with me. The guys refused to charge me for cutting the big hunk of plywood into manageable pieces that will fit in my car, on the grounds that they were bored anyways. Nice. I can't actually get started tonight b/c D wants me to have a lesson before using his circular saw make the rest of the cuts...I can't say I blame him as I wouldn't let him use my sewing machine sans instruction either, and that doesn't cut off your fingers.

I figured out the problem with the wood-working books at the store; they're all for serious furniture made with wood and joinery: all about cherry versus oak, mortise-and-tenon and dove-tailing. Where is the book about screwing together plywood pieces and leftover lumber? Perhaps I shall write it.

D seems to be doing a little better with the pain medicine, although he is back in bed before nine again. I'm hoping the physical therapy tomorrow helps too.

Work was really boring for the millionth day in a row; I realize that I need to move on, up, or out but I have to improve my standing with the bank before I can do that. I'm actually preforming 'below expectations' because of the the referrals, but slowly I'm getting better. Right now I think I have 14 or 15 for the month and I only need 20; that's the best I've ever done so far. I just don't like selling people stuff, especially credit cards, the root of all evil in this culture. But if selling them credit cards gets me away from being a teller and into something more challenging and interesting, than bring it on, I say. Every other area--customer service, operations, drawer-balancing--I'm on top of already.

One of the new girls I work with has been sick for two weeks now. She's trying to get her insurance stuff sorted out to go the the doctor and get antibiotics; meanwhile two other girls have gotten sick too and my throat's all scratchy and raw. It doesn't look good...

I must go and mark all my wood, so that when D is ready I can make the cuts on the lines. And also do the yoga to get the good sleep. And inventory the fish tank. You wouldn't think that you could actually lose a fish, but we have. D's theory is that the other fish ate him; mine is that he floated to the top where the cat fished him out-no pun intended. So now, I count all the fish in the tank every other day or so, just in case.