Well, at least i have a job

Wednesday, April 14th

Well today was certainly an interesting day.  Around 6am, I walked in through the back and noticed the tray around my dry cleaning machine was completely filled with solvent.  I clocked in, threw my sodas in the fridge and sighed.  Today was going to be a long day.

Unbeknownst to me, when I loaded the machine yesterday, I hadn’t latched the door completely, thus leaving the seal in the door, cracked just a smidge.  When Terry came in at 5am this morning, he turned on the machine for me and solvent slowly leaked out through the door and collected in the bottom tray.

I had not spoken to Terry yet, I just figured it was something to do with the lint filter, where solvent is pumped through continuously as the drum spins.  That’s usually where most of my problems begin.  I turned the pump off and just as I barely unlatched the clamp on the lint trap, petroleum spewed from the top of it like a volcano. 

I was drenched, head to toe.

I spent the next thirty minuets mopping up solvent with rags, spinning the rags out into the machine, mopping up some more.  My boss, Allan came in and asked what in the world happened.  “Go home, take a shower, change clothes.  I’ll finish this up and get your next load going,” he said.

By the time I walked though my front door, I was crying, purely out of frustration.  Shawn was only just collecting his things for a shower so I made it just in time.  Greatly concerned, he asked what in the world happened.  Through my sobs of “I hate my job!” I explained it to him as I peeled off my clothes and warned him not to light up anywhere me as I was covered in what is essentially, gasoline.

I soaped up and covered the red patches on my body with aloe vera.  This is the part where Shawn began to freak out.  My bras are slightly padded and that extra bit of padding soaked up quite a bit of solvent and held it there against my skin.  My belt and the waist band of my low-rise jeans, along with my underwear, also soaked up quite a bit.  So, you can imagine.

The fronts of my legs tingled, felt fuzzy.  I hung my under garments on hangers and piled the remaining clothes into a bag to take back to work. 

Shawn expressed great concern and demanded that I come home if I started to hurt or feel bad.  “I don’t give a **** about those people!  If you start burning, you come home and you call me!” he exclaimed.

I spent the better part of the day continuing to mop of solvent in between spotting job, loading and unloading washers, dryers, and the machine.  It’s not a big deal, really.  I’ve had this stuff irritate my arms pretty drastically.  It looks like I’ve been burned with boiling water, then my skin gets real dry and starts to crack.  Sometimes it feels irritating, almost like a slight burn, but it doesn’t really hurt dramatically.  Once you’ve had a few dozen steam burns, you change you mind about what really hurts and what is merely bothersome.

A couple of co-workers expressed concern for me, wanting to know what happened, was I alright, and so forth.  One co-worker nearly tasted the wrath that is The Back Of My Hand, simply because she spoke and words came out.  I wasn’t in the mood for her mouth today.  I bit my tongue because I was exhausted and really just wanted this day to be over.

Of course, it didn’t get any better from there.  I went on to burn two of my fingers and smacked my wrist into the dryer so hard that it bruised almost instantly.  People are complaining to me about how other people are doing things.  I’ve got my own issues to deal with.  You all just settle this amongst yourselves.

After work, I went to Sonic and got 5 strawberry slushes on their Happy Hour sale.  In all this time, I’ve never been to the apartment complex Shawn was transferred to.  I knew he would have a miserable day because they had to change out not one, but two building water shut off valves.

I figured this would be a great opportunity to meet everyone and spend the money I found in the dryer last week.  I got out of the car just in time to see Shawn and Ray coming up the hill and I handed them each a slush.  Once inside of the office, I finally got to meet Christy, the office manager.

Shawn had done some side work at Christy’s house after a major flooding and as mush as he’s talked about her, I feel like I sort of know her.  I was actually always surprised how Shawn was able to get along with her because he had issues with a man he’d worked with before.  The man was gay, and Shawn didn’t like that.

That’s about it.  It’s taken some time, but Shawn has softened a little.  He has now known two homosexual people and once he got to know them, he could get along with them.  I have no problems with Christy being a lesbian and I’ll tell you why:  It’s not for me to judge her.  I may not agree with that lifestyle choice, but no one has to answer to me.  I’d come to terms with this way of thinking a long time ago.  The only homosexuals I cannot stand are those fairies on TV that prance around acting like little six year girls.  They’re just really annoying. 

One of my own co-workers became a lesbian after her second divorce and it didn’t change how I viewed her, how I interacted with her, or our friendship at work.  She’s no different now than she was a couple years ago when all she did was gripe and complain about “that bastard who don’t pay no bills or nothin’!”

Christy seemed really sweet and asked how I was.  “Oh, you told everyone, huh?” I asked Shawn.  Of course he did.  Ray asked how I was, said that Shawn was concerned, that “we all were concerned.”  Wow, I’ve never even met these people, besides Ray!

“Oh, he exaggerates,” I told Ray.  “It’s really not that bad.”
“It was this morning!  At least what I saw!!!” Shawn exclaimed.  He must have asked me a dozen times if I was really OK.

Shawn called me later and said that Lou, the housekeeper said, “Shawn’s wife is pretty.  Why is she married to him?!” 
Shawn answered with, “I been asking myself that for many years now!”

Har har.  Still makes me feel good, though!  I know Ray and Christy are forever buying lunch and breakfast for everyone and we don’t really have the money to reciprocate for all of that.  I know slushies are not much, but it’s a start.  Maybe I’ll bake something in a few weeks.

Perhaps tomorrow will be better for both Shawn and myself.  He doesn’t have school tomorrow so we’ll have the evening together, at the very least.  This business thing between him and Ray may be getting started within a month’s time, on the weekends of course.  No one is quitting their job or anything.  The first project is to become a trike with NOS attached.

Of course it is.  Anything to give me a heart attack while I cover my eyes as my dear ‘ol husband goes screaming down our neighborhood street at 70 miles per hour.

You all may want to pull your cars into the driveways on first-test day.  And make sure your pets are all safely inside.  And place your children in the closet--especially the teenagers.  Not for safety reasons, they just get on my nerves is all.