I left a Discord server last night, telling the others “I need to go to bed, I’ve got to get up early tomorrow and do a workout.” I’m baking the rest of BossRPh‘s cake and assembling it tonight, and I won’t have time to do one tonight. Getting a workout this morning is important to me.
Narrator voiceover: “It was not important enough to get up early for.”
Unless I want to squeeze in some fitness while the cake is baking, my next workout day will be tomorrow. I’m working a late shift, and I’ll have some extra time in the morning.
Tomorrow is BossRPh’s last day. I’m going to do my best to not cry when we say our goodbyes. StressedRPh talked to our DM yesterday, and the DM confirmed that one of our fill-in pharmacists will be the interim manager. Happily, it’s the one I’ve called “MusicMan”, who we really like. Naturally, StressedRPh isn’t happy. It’s not that she’s unhappy with the choice, but she’s unhappy that no one is talking to her about anything. BossRPh didn’t talk to her about her plans to leave, and no one is talking to her about replacement manager options.
Tonight, in addition to the caking, is Shawshank‘s night o call me. He has a video hearing tomorrow afternoon. My mom texted the other night asking if I was nervous about the hearing. I’m not really feeling anything about it. It’s simply another in a long line of court things I’ve had to deal with over the last 18 months. It’ll happen, or it won’t. Monday, Shawshank told me he’d put a letter in Captain America’s in-box saying he waived his right to a hearing and wanted be sent back to Canada. Whether he fights or not, it’s not a quick process either way. With covid-19 still in full swing, who knows when he’ll actually get out.
Oh, and his facility just announced its first case of the virus last night. I’ve managed to keep things together, reminding myself “there’s nothing in there, he’s probably safer in there than outside.” I don’t even have that anymore.
