sevenhelz

On Saturday night I bought lots of books. This is probably quite naughty of me, as I'm not going to have very much money from now on. I actually spent about £50 because they were all from different sellers, so the p&p added up to about £15. Gahh. Well, the books are: Postsecret: Extraordinary Confessions from Ordinary Lives; Backlash: The Undeclared War Against Women; Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit; Cunt: A Declaration of Independence; The Beauty Myth: How Images of Beauty Are Used Against Women; and Written on the Body, all of which I can imagine I will keep for a long time. So that's good.

Oh yeah, and today I quit my job.

To be fair, it was a pile of shite. I've been so miserable there for so long, I was mostly putting up with it in the vague hope that one day it would get better. Or maybe my brain would melt and drip gently out my ears, leaving me with nothing but perma-smile and thus the personality fit for the job.
That garage is always either boring or scary. The amount of thugs I've had to deal with is just not worth the amount of money I was being paid. Evening work means missing most of the fun parts of life and even the more enjoyable mundane bits, such as spending time with your partner when both of you are not entirely knackered and in terrible moods. When our new area manager brought in stricter rules about paperwork and mistakes on the tills, I wasn't too bothered. I'm quite a good cashier. When he decided no-one working under six hours was allowed a break, the bells started clanging - okay, legally they're not specifically entitled to one, and okay, Julie gives us ten minutes anyway, but still - the six hour morning shifts in particular are enough to leave you braindead when you do have a break... this guy expects us to be superhuman, on minimum wage. And then he told the managers they had even less wage-hours to give, and did I mention he's made us have a superviser on all evening? So, the shifts had to be shifted and now all evening staff are on 6-11 rather than some being on 4-11. This makes the change-over impractical as both tills have to switch in quick succession, at a busy point in the evening. It also means that non-supervisers (i.e. me) are most likely to be on the main till all night, which is boring. It also means that we'd have to work more days to make up the same hours, which brings us back to the problems of evening work. Basically, a job that was already straining my nerves, would drive me completely insane within about a week. Oh, and Anna telling me "sticking it out would be good practise for the future" just proves to me that she has no idea how unhappy I was already. Well done for trying, though.

Phew. Now that that's over, lets address this weekend.
I've spent most of it shouting at Steve, or being shouted at by Steve, or thinking about shouting at him, or trying not to think about him by spending time with some completely different people. We've put the phone down on each other about a hundred times. I've walked out once. And been back maybe three times since.
It sounds bad, huh? Yeah, it was. And today we started fixing it. We've tidied together, thrown some of the ex-girlfriend's stuff in a box to try and clear her out of the house. It doesn't sound like much, but we got on. And perhaps we can keep getting on. It won't be like it was. Especially with me not working, it can't be the same. But hopefully we will have some fun. That's all I ever wanted.