Yes, well. Read a Mercedes Lackey book. Not a bad writer, but could really stand to further some issues work. Broke a chunk of my back tooth 2 days before m’birthday, still sensitive. We’ll be celebrating it at the end of June, I think, if all goes well. Trying to figure out that damned welfare application along with Mawd. ugh.

Talked to Serve today to tell ‘em some job issues and what I’d like to try. Consequently now I’m all jitters, as she called back earlier today to ask if I’m free at nine tomorrow to walk across two towns for a stint at Ma’s place o’employment, which I won’t be any good at since it’s in a kitchen.

My only wondering is that she asked – she’s familiar with the area and that I don’t drive, so god only knows why she called for a place that never hires when she’s aware it takes an hour an a half to walk there from here. Hitching a ride with ma at five am tomorrow, live in the truck till the time comes to meet her out front, I suppose, since I very well couldn’t say ‘no’. I’m good in a kitchen, but not an industrial one, where measuring cups an stove dials that I can’t see and haven’t memorized abound, let alone food recipes, since I’m used to working from memory. The stoves there do make me uneasy, as do the hot plates. I get enough accidents around one stove, but most of their kitchen is full of hot metal (I’ve been there before, visiting ma on break and dropping ff keys or pop when we lived two doors down). Ma said Serve uses her work as a ‘trial run’ for getting used to the program, and that I’d likely just be filling juice cups and serving cake on individual plates (it being a nursing home).

I did manage to tell the woman who came to see me ’bout the slight back problem though, and that I enjoyed working with mhmr, so hoping for a job at F. Eh, come what may, though I woudn’t survive at Ma’s work if it came down to it. Her job moves too fast, among other things. I’m a bit of a plodder, I s’pose, only have two speeds and the fastest one many people consider just a – smidge – too slow. Always just a smidge, as if they think I could hike it up any faster. Some of it’s my vision, takes an extra minute or two to focus and read, while some of it’s prolly my height, believe it or not it’s been a problem in two jobs already, dishwashing where I couldn’t reach to hang up the pans and couldn’t see the nails they were supposed to go on, and the animal care sanctuary, where they gave me a stool that I was supposed to step on and off every two minutes for seven or so hours to reach in back of cages cuz I was too damn short. Nobody else had to use a stool and not sure where they managed to dig it up as it was plastic. Kept waiting for it to crumple or slide out from under me, the legs weren’t the steadiest. My back died, I only lasted the day. It actually died at eleven or so, got through the rest of it on sheer force of will, it was worse than the pre pt for the military. Which, yes, is saying something.. Spending 7 or 8 hours (I misremember exact time) running, doing drills, situps, pushups, odd leg exercises…. t’was all quiet a bit easier than that cage and a stool. And the owners of the place wondered why they were always four people short.

Anyway, I ain’t tall, tall being about 5′5 and over. Don’t think I’m slow, really, since things get done in time, always. I like to think strength makes up for it most of the time (my calves leave many in awe, rather proud of ‘em), but Ma said prolly no hauling things. Wouldn’t mind working for a moving company, but the height difference with everyone else means two people of wildly disparaging height (Most movers I’ve seen are about six foot, unfortunately) make it harder to carry a sofa, least for me. Their steps are longer and their end is jacked up an extra 7 or 8 inches, it sucks. Eh, nervous for tomorrow. Have to find shoes, the black ones are two sizes too big, but the other sneakers give me blisters. Choices, choices.