Officially, as of April 1, and this is no joke, Ursula Ulcer has returned with a vengeance. I had my suspicions about her return; the almost constant belly ache that shot right through to my back and the need to be constantly placated with food, not unlike Audrey in the Little Shop of Horrors. So, yes, while I enjoyed a hot dog or two yesterday in honor of the opening of baseball season, I did pay for it dearly later and had to quell the burning with yogurt and my new favorite rice pudding, along with a side of antacids.
Stress, what stress? Work has been a bit of a challenge of late with the dramatics of the Queen of Avon, aka, stinky perfume lady. I think I am at a point in my "career" as it were, where I don't need things like that cluttering my life. Retirement, while a scary undertaking is at most three years away. And it could happen next week. Would you like fries with your order might be my passage to a new and rewarding career as an underpaid service worker.
The Queen of Avon, as in Ding, Dong, Avon Calling, has been relocated but the stench lives on. I don't know if she is stupid, inconsiderate, stubborn or perhaps all three, but in spite of being told by management to stop wearing cologne, she persists in the habit. And two of us peons have spoken to her directly about this issue. Let us leave all of her other delightful characteristics aside for the moment and concentrate on the immediate issue of smells in the workplace. And she does. Oh, she will go for days without the scent, but then it returns with a vengeance. The concept that the smell might cause me, in particular in this case, to develop migraines, with the accompanying nausea has no impact on her. Others have complained about the same issues. And currently there is not a policy in the workplace about cologne odors, just food and its accompanying odors, something the Queen was also called out for (and she didn't bring in enough BBQ for all of us to enjoy)
And then there was the issue over some ergonomic device I wanted to test for a cousin. That turned into a real cluster fux. I did promise not to reveal some of the details of this and conversations about this but if you send a stamped self addressed envelope I will fill you in on the naughty details of my subversive activities.
So with all this hovering about like so many bees, retirement is looking better all the time. I want to have the time to do things: to putter in the yard, take a yoga class, read all the books I have been accumulating and not deal with stress at work. Other physical things factor into this. The arthritic hands, one of which will require surgery within the year, the ulcer...all things health related. My dad worked part time until he was 73 and retired when he had surgery for lung cancer and then passed away three months later. I don't want that for me. Of course no one knows how many ticks of the clock one has but I would like to have the time to enjoy some of those ticks. And coming up on another birthday only serves as a reminder how transient life is. More behind than ahead at this stage of my "career", so send in the clowns...don't bother I'm here.
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