I am bone tired ya’ll! I just got home from “work” at 10:30 p.m.. I got to “work” at 8:00 a.m. I beaded and reviewed documents until 3:30, then I went to the shop, where I filed and re-did the contract price sheet, met with a client who is not only ordering two necklaces from me, but also wants to a) loan me a newer laptop with bells and whistles and Quickbooks on it so I can b) work for him too since AZ, I’m assuming, gave me a glowing reference. Otherwise, why would a guy who has met me twice now, trust me to input invoices and receipts into his Quickbooks system? So, I know AZ had something to do with it. Probably doesn’t hurt that AZ also uses Quickbooks so I can learn that much faster.
It was fucking hot in the shop today. 92 fucking degrees when I left at about 9:30. It was about 89 in the actual office where the poor pitiful A/C was doing what it could to cool that small area. Stands to reason the one week that Nate is at my parents’ place it would be butt fucking hotter than Hades. I have to say though, I’ve kicked some major ass in the shop. Even if it is on the edge of Hades, I love being there, even by myself. The heat and sweat and grime just doesn’t bother me.
So far, this has been a good thing for AZ and me. Although I didn’t see him Monday, I did talk to him four or five times, which is good, since it broke the ice after our long talk on Friday. Yesterday, he was in a fantastic mood and we worked on several things before I gave him a long backrub and we talked. When I started rubbing his shoulders he said, “Oh, that feels so good. I’m in misery.” I asked, “Why didn’t you just say so?”
“Well, because now I just can’t ask you to rub my back.” I leaned over and whispered, “Yes, you can.” He nodded and smiled, “Yeah, I guess I can.” CHA! He had lips all over my nipples on Friday and yet he’s worried about asking me for a backrub??? CHA!
Today was good, just busy and he had to leave early for some other commitments, but we’re adjusting well.
Now, I had forgotten to tell you all that Mr. Nate and his sister, Danlel, were playing out at the farm (Jeff’s parents’ place for their greyhounds), and they were playing on a sort of exercising machine for the dogs. A pole came around and whacked Nate in the head and he now has four fine stitches to prove it. I took before and after photos with my cellphone, but the hell if I know when I can send them and download and all that. This was last Friday. AZ and I text-messaged back and forth while I was at the ER, since I had left the shop (and him, mrowr), not 15 minutes prior to the call from Jeff. This severely set back my plans to actually sleep before I went to NC. I beaded while Nate sat on the bed waiting on the doctor.
He said, “Mama, I can’t believe you’re beading in this time of crisis.”
“Dude, beading helps Mommy calm down. You want me calm right?”
“Furthermore, since you’re bouncing on the bed, talking, breathing, and watching Nickelodeon, I don’t believe this qualifies as a crisis.”
I swear, not five minutes later Jeff came in and said, “You’re beading?
But Nate is super duper fine and resting comfortably at my parents’ house. Alls well that ends well.