Before I Put on My Makeup

Good morning, my friends, acquaintances, enemies, and even total randos. And yes, that includes you, S, even if you are a total attention-whoring cunt. I raise my mug in a coffee cup salute. It’s Tuesday.

I’m thinking about having a yard sale either this weekend or next. It’s supposed to be gorgeous this weekend, but pretty humid. The forecast for the following weekend, what they’ve come up with so far, also looks nice. I hate that I’d need to wake up so early to set up. However, the inconvenience of an early alarm is outweighed by the idea that I’d be paid to haul a load of shit out of the house.

There’s big drama at work about the hours changing. Corporate changed our hours when Covid-19 started to shut things down. We went from 9am to 9pm, to 8am to 8 pm. A few weeks ago, the district decided to cut the pharmacy’s hours, and we’ll only be open 9am to 7pm during the week, and closed on Sundays. Yesterday, there was a dispute about whether or not we were supposed to go back to our original 9am-9pm hours or stick with the 8am-8pm until the new hours go into effect at the end of the month. As of today, we’re back to the original shifts, only to change again in about a week.

However, I arrived to find a little bag addressed to me at my regular workstation. Last week, I had joked with a patient about needing a black mask so it would never clash with my hair, and she brought one in for me. Fucking sweet, I tell you. While I won’t miss the company when I eventually leave, I’ll miss most of the people.

Today’s shift will be with a fill-in pharmacist. DayTech is working the later shift. I’m hopeful about the day, because it’s already a better morning than yesterday. Unfortunately, Shawshank needs to give back the iPad that Camp Quarantine lent him, so no more video chats until he is settled in TinyTown.

For now, though, bring on another cup of coffee. Have a good day, everyone.