Thursday, June 20, 2024

tough week and second thoughts about OT

 Everything's OK. 

   Well, everything's ok FOR ME. 


     I passed Halfway Day yesterday, so I'm on the downward slope of this tour already. Week 1 purely sucked with all the fill-in crew who were... how to put this diplomatically? Far too unskilled and unknowledgeable to be doing the job they are paid for, which consists of breath-having, heartbeat-having and being my backstop.  Week 2?   Like when you hit yourself with a hammer over and over, the best thing is the feeling when you stop. Week 2 was a pleasure because it was OK.  Big E is not my backstop. He's my equal. We're both capable of doing the same job, which means we have twice the minimum skillset on board. Good reset on my outlook. 

    And here we are. I have a spot lined up in Philadelphia/Baltimore when I get off here, so rather than going home I am going to get back to hitting myself with the hammer for profit before coming back to the HQ for another tour. 

    The house in Brazil is sucking up money like a $2 whore on dollar day. So it goes. 


        But seriously, this week around many of the blogs everyone's neck deep in the shit, and I'm not. I'm just fine.  Seriously.  


 Borepatch had some nasty skin cancer removed. 

BCE  continues with The Only Way Out Is Through. 

CedarQ had a mini-stroke. 

Peter at Bayou Renaissance Man, who is in the running for The World's Nicest Guy, had THREE kidney surgeries and has to frigging wait to heal before they give him back the on/off switch to his bladder. 


           And me? I'm OK.  A little bummed that I'm working 10 weeks straight away from home and then going home for just 2 weeks, but I mean, I ASKED to stay. Gotta get a mirror if I want to yell at the guy responsible. 

______________________________________

         When I pull a stunt like I am doing now, overstaying my time at work, Inappropriately Hot Foreign Wife will at times try to change my mind, or barring that, punish me in a mild way and remind me of my stupid decisions without creating a conflict over it. 

    After a serious talk last night where we talked about construction on the house in Brazil, the cost being borne (she's working 70-80 hours a week herself), and my need to pull a 10-weeker to throw some extra cash on the burn pile, she agreed that I made the right call but she still didn't like it. 

 Anyhow she sent me a picture this morning when she got up, one of those See What You're Missing Dummy pictures.


I'm gonna catch hell for posting her fresh out of bed without makeup. The cleavage thing, she doesn't care. She's a Brazilian indio;  getting clothes on them is like trying to baptize a cat. 

            Ugh. gonna be a long 10 weeks. 

1 comment:

Peter said...

Thanks for the kind words, sir! I appreciate them. I'm on the mend, and looking forward to the end of the eight-month-long saga of diagnosis, arguing with doctors, and settling on a treatment plan. Here's hoping for the best!