what a shitty day.

So first off, I'm late for the train. Now, that's not going to make me late for work, because I left early so I'd have time to grab a bite to eat before work, but it DOES mean that I'm gonna have to go without eating until I can get a snack on my 15 minute break. I only worked 4 hours today, so no scheduled lunch. Okay. That sucks, but I can handle it. Then the goddamn train went right past my stop. It slowed down a bit, and presumably, there was no one on the platform, and I guess if nobody rings the stop request, he doesn't stop. That might seem kind of obvious to you people, but I've been riding the train for a long time and that HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE. They ALWAYS stop at every stop. Whatever. I got off at the next stop, and waited for the train in the opposite direction, which came about ten minutes later. Now I WAS going to be late for work. Not so much that I'd get in trouble, but enough that my half-formulated plan of scarfing down a bag of chips before clocking on was totally blown.
Finally, I get to work, and immediately get bitched at. Not severely, because it came from a friend of mine, but it sucked nonetheless. Basically, apparently, I'd printed up some estimates for a customer, which is a no-no, but I figured as long as I didn't GIVE it to him, I'd be okay. The idea is that we don't want to do all the work designing a frame job for a customer, and then he takes our estimate to some other frame shop, and they underbid us by 10 bucks and get the job without doing any work at all, whereas we spent an hour or more putting together a high quality job for nothing. I understand that, and I think it's reasonable, but if they don't want me using estimates, then there really ought to be some facility for finding a total price on a group of workorders beyond just writing all the parts down by hand and totally them up. If we're doing that, then why do we have an automated system anyway? Fucking stupid. Turns out, the way the system works, if you do an estimate, it goes all the way up the corporate chain, and they see it as "lost revenue" and all kinds of reports and shit get filed, starting with, no fucking joke, one of the companies vice presidents.
On top of that, apparently I didn't do a good enough job facing the shelves the other night. Basically what that means is you have to go around and straighten everything. But I've never really been trained, apart from vague suggestions from the other framers, and I get vague nebulous fucking feedback. I don't get "the frames on aisle 47 were uneven," instead, I get "Yeah, the boss wasn't happy." Great. I'm sorry the boss had a shitty day. That really doesn't help me do it any better and avoid getting bitched at next time, does it?
Anyway, after that it was a pretty normal day. I pulled my weight for once, meaning I did enough framing and took in enough orders to pay for the hours I worked. They have a whole system worked out. It's both gay and retarded. Basically, every job you take in is worth so many minutes. Regardless of what's involved, or much it cost. So I can take in a job that consists entirely of cutting a mat board, and it's worth the same to me, time-wise as a $1000 frame order. Gay. But then SEPERATE from that, we're supposed to beat these projected goals based on previous years sales, and beat the specific dollar amount from the same day a year previous. Retarded. Apparently the other day, the boss got all worked up because we came up 150 dollars short. I don't know what he expects us to do. We can't sell anything to customers who don't come to the counter. BUT... I worked 4 hours, and earned probably 6 or 7 on the schedule, so that's a plus. Hopefully it will equate to another bump in the number of hours I'm getting... or at least keeping the hours I got this week.
After that I came home. The memory of being chewed out first thing had kind of faded, and I'd been reading a book that I don't think I'd classify as "good," but it's been pretty entertaining at points, so I was feeling pretty up. I got off the train and walked a half a block or so to the house, opened the door, and immediately knew something was wrong. The place REEKED. So I walked in, careful to pay close attention to where I was stepping, and turned on the lights. One of the dogs had apparently gotten sick, and left a big greenish puddle of shit. I'm not exaggerating. It was green, and it was a fucking puddle. GROSS. I contemplated leaving it for my sister. It's not my god damn dog, after all, but then I figured I'd be left to contend with the smell, AND I'd get bitched at, and I certainly didn't like coming home to a puddle of shit, so I didn't figure my sister would be too excited about it either. And I couldn't really blame the dog, I mean she got sick. What's she gonna do, go to the emergency room? She DID manage to avoid shitting on the carpet, at least. It did a fair bit to bring my earlier shitty mood back to the fore though. So there I am, on my hands and knees by the kitchen mopping up a puddle of runny shit with a paper towel and a plastic bag over my hand when my sister came home. After I'd explained what happened, she said "Sorry, dude," while she spritzed some sort of vinegar solution over the spot I'd just cleaned in order to disinfect it.
So I sat around kind of on the fringe of the conversation she and her boyfriend had regarding her day at work, and the new hire she's trying to get pushed through, and watching Jeopardy. My sister had a meeting to go to, and as she was walking out the door, she asked me to do the dishes. It's sort of my thing, these days, I guess. One of the ways I contribute to the household. So I said I would. After Jeopardy was over, I put on some music, which is what I always do when I'm going to do any kind of housework, and started in on the dishes. The dishwasher was full and running, so rather than wait, I just filled the sink and started the other dishes by hand. I had Paul Simon on, I didn't mind. I'd gotten about 3/4 of the way through a pretty substantial pile of glasses (we've had company... some wine and beer was drunk) I broke one, and cut the shit out of my hand. It didn't hurt too bad, but I cut my knuckle right down to the tendon or bone, or whatever it is that hides directly under all the skin. The skin, being wet, and beginning to get a bit pruney, sliced wide open without a whole lot of resistance, and it bled like a son of a bitch. So I'm looking for a band-aid now, checking in what seemed to me the most obvious place, the medicine cabinet. No bandages. So I knock on the master bedroom door, and my sister's boyfriend came out and helped me locate some bandages, and was very helpful, despite not knowing anything about first aid. Mostly he was helpful because he found me some gauze and knew where the bandages were. Good stuff to know when you're bleeding profusely.

Anyway, I think i've got the bleeding stopped now, and I'm happy to report my savaged knuckle apparently doesn't impede my typing. Hopefully the same can be said for my guitar playing, because I kind of expect this to take a week or more to heal, and I don't want to go a week without playing anything.

How was your day?