I had to give my dog back to the shelter. Yes, I cried like a baby. I got him a month ago as a Christmas present to myself, and our then-landlords were cool with him. Flash forward to Monday: I found out the new owners of my complex have instituted a 10 pound and under rule. No problem until my lease comes up for renewal--but then I'd have to find some place new to live. Continued problem: most places won't take more than 2 animals, and since I've had my cats for almost a year, I can't split them up. So, Max had to go back to the shelter. I cried. A lot.
I'm still working my 7 shifts in 6 days. They're training someone, claiming he'll be ready in 2 weeks. Doubtful, just because of the massive amount of information they have to learn. I've been told I'm cranky on Wednesday mornings, probably because it's my fourth straight shift in a row, and I'm usually running on only 4 hours of sleep. I won't share with you my response to that statement, since I try not to use too many of those words on a public website.
On the plus side, less than 40 days until vacation! I'm suffering wardrobe setbacks, but I shall persevere. I've got a good portion of my trip planned out--I'm probably spending Sunday morning eating breakfast and hitting up the Met, maybe Broadway, and then Monday at Ellis Island and in the Bronx. I'm excited, to say the least.
Okay, I think that rounds up the random. Breakfast, followed by the kiddies, followed by some work of my own. Catch you on the flip side!