Holy hell, is it hot today. And humid. Gotta love the valley weather. But well, at least I'm in the office now. I can finally peel this godawful mask off my face and let my skin breathe a little. Truth be told, the mask is not all that bad. 'Ama got it for me over the weekend, along with three others. It's actually much fresher on the face than all my other previously attempted masks, but since it also goes over my head and forehead (it's one of those wrap-around things that you can use to create different effects), I'm super uncomfortable up on my dome. I even think my forehead broke out in sarpuido, and I'm not really prone to that shit. Right now, I should be rapidly working on my Dry Ice paperwork so I can rush and help Clerical, but honestly, I don't much feel like it. All them bitches in that department can shove it right now. And yes, I'm counting Enrique as one of the bitches. Poor kid; he probably doesn't deserve that, but I'm really fed up right now. It's why I'm not planning on staying to help the ladies of Clerical tonight. As soon as I finish my paperwork, I'm doing Light Check in the Yard, and then I'm Outie 5000. My knee has also been bothering me more than usual today, and I think that has much to do with my attitude tonight. Anyhow, I need to get started on this paperwork. Back on this later.



23:25
So I just clocked out and had Norbie fix my hours. I told him I felt bad about not staying and helping Clerical, but I'm lying. I don't feel bad one iota. Again, bitches can shove it. Hell, I already worked more than eight hours as it is, without needing to frickin' handle their shit. After all, what is another half hour more? They're gonna take it anyway, whether I help them or not. So they can keep their overtime. I got enough for myself.

In sadder (way sadder) news, my sister's little pup, Chocomil, passed away yesterday. His name was not actually Chocomil; that's just what I called him. He was a tiny white chihuahua with light brown flecks here and there. He was only months old, and super skinny. I mean, that's just how he was; I know my sister's husband fed him according to his weight. He was my Mowgli's frenemy, whenever they crossed paths. Cochiloco (his real name) would bark at Mowgli, and my Ball of Infinite Puff would hiss in reply. Then they'd pretend to chase each other (Cochi would only sprint a few steps before turning back and running to his doggy bed), and stare at each other from across the room. But when Cochi was asleep, Mowgli would creep up to him for a sniff or two, obviously curious, and whenever Mowgli would sashay past him, Cochi would try to get a whiff of Mowgli's plumed tail while my kitten pretended not to notice. They were cute together, and I had hoped that in time, they would become real furry friends. Both were close in age, and both needed a buddy. My sister has been beside herself in grief, and I can completely understand. I still cry over Knightmare, Shai and Patrick, and they passed away back in 2014. Whenever I remember my Keffer-cow and her sister, Yupi, I still feel that twinge of nostalgic sadness. And of course, not to mention Kiro. He was such a lovable cat, and he wasn't even mine. Of course, that's not even half of my repertoire of pets: I still haven't even gotten into the list of reptiles and birds. My sister says she doesn't know how it is I manage the pain of losing so many over the years. That's just life, I guess. I told her I would rather feel the pain of losing them than having never met them at all. Yes, there's pain, but they also brought me many levels of joy in the time they shared with me.