The new job is tough. Not that the job itself if hard, once I caught up to the learning curve it got to the point where I can do 90% of it in my sleep and the other 10% is an interesting puzzle to be solved. What is really hard, tho, is the schedule. I work from 7-4, which allows me to drive to and from work without hitting bad traffic. On the other hand, it's freaking 7 a.m. when I get to work!! EWWWWW!! The job is 17 miles from the house, so if I want to get there on time and have a good breakfast beforehand, I basically have to be out of bed by 5. FIVE. A. M.
So, yeah, I'm tired, like, all the time now. When I get home from work, and make dinner, and eat dinner, I have basically one or two hours of whatever-time before I start to get really really sleeeeepy. Usually, the Sleeeeepy hits me around 8. Which sucks because everything interesting I might want to do begins at 7 or 7:30.
What time does fighter practice start? 7:30.
What time do we gather at Thugette's for Sewing Night? 7:30.
What time do movies, dance classes, and concerts start? ahem.
And therefore, if you have missed seeing me at various social gathering over the past month, it was because I was asleep.
Last week at work I officially finished the classroom portion of the training. All of next week I will be taking phone calls with a lot of supervision. The week after that, I will officially be a customer service rep, spending 8 hours a day taking wall-to-wall phone calls. Yay.
My hope, tho, is that the actual work will be a little easier than the training. I mean, it's fun to get paid to learn stuff, but I find it taxing to have to Pay Attention to something for eight hours straight. It's much more invigorating to interact with people and do the work. Plus, there's that whole thing where the teacher always had to teach the material three times . .. I hate that. First, he taught the subject for five minutes. I and half the class learned it. Then, the other half of the class said, "What? I don't get it . . . " So he taught it again. Then, one or two stragglers said, "What page are we on?" and the teacher taught it Again. By that time I was either reading a novel or dozing off. There were a few times where I missed a whole half hour of the class because I'd forgotten to tune back in for the next new lesson. At the end of the day, the effort to stay awake and alert had worn me down.
I hope that the week after next I will have some energy in the evenings and can begin showing my face outside the house again.
The bank has decided to let me be a part of a Gov't program for poor people wherein I can continue to pay a mortgage and live in a house.
The weird thing is that they've sent me two "information packets" over the past two weeks. The first packet lists my future mortgage payment as $300 less than the previous mortgage payment. This is good since I am currently earning about $3500 less than S used to earn, back in the day. It's not an ideal mortgage payment, but it's better than the original amount. HOWEVER, a week and a half after I go the first packet, I got a second packet that was identical to the first one except the dollar amount had changed . . . to the original payment. The payment we made back when I was married to a highly paid computer programmer.
For those of you following along at home, my entire monthly salary is equal to the mortgage payment plus electric bill. There is no money left over for the gas bill, the car insurance, the groceries, the phone bill, clothes, medicine, or dog food. None. Oh, and there's a second mortgage, too. And a credit card bill from those days when I was trying to support a depressed, unemployed, and suicidal spouse who was used to living on a high income and just couldn't face the reality of not eating in restaurants every single night without wanting to die.
So you see, that first information packet quoted a price that I like a lot better. I'd like it even better if it had been, say, $600 less. As for that second packet of information . . . I'm thinking about setting fire to it and pretending it never got here. I was so much less stressed out when I got the first packet and and then all that stress came right back when I got the second one. I don't know which one is the correct amount, and I'm actually afraid to call the bank and ask. And I'm really tired of being that stressed out. It's starting to wear a little . . .
And that's the news.