I hate when this happens.
Work was slow, slow, slow, and then ... starting about 5am ... busy! nonstop until I left at 9:30. And the shift had a theme ... spoiled yippy little dogs with ditzy blond Newport Beach women for owners. There is a certain category of client that I've seen nowhere but Central, and it annoys the hell out of me. Newport wives. Dear god, the blonde and the stupid, with too much money for their own good ...
And this poor blind boxer that was hospitalized overnight barked and barked and barked until the doctor stumbled out of the office at 3 am and mumbled a dosage for a sedative. And I sedated the dog and my headache went away.
Oh god, the boxer's owner. She came in to visit at 10ish last night. The dog was calm before she came by, but she had to visit with him. So she visits, and the dog gets agitated, fidgeting and pacing.
"Oh, he has to go out. You need to take him for a walk." Mind you, it's pouring, pouring rain outside. Complete with occasional thunder and flashes of lightning. So I take this poor blind dog and try to walk him. The creature hit every door frame on the way out of the hospital. (I tried to keep him walking where he should have gone, but he was a big dog!) We both stand out in the rain for a few moments, the dog having no idea why he has been taken from his warm blanketed cage into this environment of cold wetness, and me, pissed off and soaked to the skin through thin scrubs.
After a few minutes of the dog not peeing, the owner freaks out again.
"I don't want him out here! It's cold! I don't want him to get sick!" So you came in here from the rain, demanded that I take your dog out in the rain, let me and your poor dog get soaked, and then change your mind? Where the fuck did you think I was going to walk him?
So I take the dog back inside, put him back into the cage which has been padded with even more blankets then usual, since the owner didn't think he had been bedded down well enough. The owner fusses over him for another few minutes, tried to make him eat a dog biscuit that he didn't want, and gets him even more worked up before leaving. And is then upset that her visit makes the dog more agitated.
After she leaves, the dog proceeds to urinate in the cage, on all of the blankets. And bark and bark and bark until I shoot it up with acepromazine.
So I entertained myself during the dull bits of work by talking to drunk Tyler each of the three times he called me, reading a book I borrowed from Andy, and talking via my phone's nifty AIM feature with Josie and wubby. And no one comes to see me ... I'm going to bitch about that until somebody does. I'm 5 minutes away, people!
So I've convinced myself that nobody that is into me will continue to like me if they really get to know me. Like if they see my house, meet my cats, or get too close to me. Recent events have confirmed this on the twisted side of my mind. I'm sure I can only be loved on a superficial level.
Which reminds me ... I should spend this time cleaning my room. Not that anyone ever comes to see me here, either.
Yup, feeling pretty sorry for myself today. But it's ok.
Oh, Jarhead Justin called, left a voicemail apologizing for being an ass Friday night. He actually sounded sorry. I'm over being mad. I never held a grudge over it, I just got pissed off and left. But I'm happy he apologized.