Decisions, Happy and Otherwise

The Object of My Affection and I are still recovering from the past couple weeks. When things turn to shit, they really turn to shit around here.

Omar's grandmother was buried the Saturday of a long holiday weekend. The priest used the opportunity of delivering her eulogy to talk about the dearth of priests within the Catholic Church and how that's somehow everyone else's fault but the Catholic Church's. As Omar's cousin said to me, "This is why I don't go to church anymore." Amen, cousin Lisa.

Priests are in general creepy. It's one thing to be devoted to God. I get that. It's another to give up sex, money, and free will to be devoted to God. I especially don't get the free will part. Because you pledge obedience to the God and the Church, you have to give up the power of original thought? Whatever, I'm done trying to figure out the Catholic Church. Every time I even consider going back, something like Grammy's funeral happens and I'm like, "No way, no how."

Anyway, Omar was conned into working on July 4th. He left for work at seven-thirty in the morning that Monday and came back home at quarter after four in the morning on Tuesday. Needless to say, no one in this house had a good holiday. He was pissed because he was at work for over twenty hours and I was pissed because it was the first holiday I had off in God knows how long and I wanted to spend it with him.

So Monday sucked. Then came Thursday night. I closed at The Store, came home late, and was awakened at quarter to four in the morning by Omar screaming at me that the building was on fire. Omar does this every single freaking time there's a fire near our building. He wakes me up so that I think it's our building on fire. Clearly, it wasn't. The building across from us burned almost to the ground because the genius who lives on the third floor took the smoldering charcoal out of his illegal grill (you can't have a grill above the first floor according to town ordinances) and put it in the trash can. Where it smoldered and burned shit down. Moron doesn't quite begin to cover it.

Then my mom calls me. Baby Sis was rushed to the hospital on Friday night. She has been sick for awhile and Friday night was the worst it had been. My first instinct is to rush home to my parents and stare at Baby Sis for a long time to make sure she is alive and well with my own eyes. But I can't. I have to work. At The Store. On a Sunday. If I had any other job, I could have rushed home and stared at Baby Sis to my heart's content. But I can't. The Store needed me.

So anyway, I made my decision. I'm quitting The Store. It's not just because my manager's leaving. It's not just because of Baby Sis being sick. I'm getting married. This is supposed to be the happiest time of my life and I'm miserable. The person I want to share all this with is sick and dealing with her own shit. The people I rely on most are leaving for other jobs. And I hate my job. I hate my lazy, messy staff, who do nothing. I hate the fact I have to tell them they can't take their cell phones on to the sales floor. Isn't that common sense?? I hate that I have to justify my behavior and business decisions to a District Manager who doesn't spend any time in my store. She keeps yelling at us about what we're doing wrong, but doesn't offer any support or suggestions about how to change things.

I haven't found a new job yet - I'm not even certain what I want to do (I've been tossing around the idea of becoming a paralegal). But I told my manager I'm leaving and she thinks it's a good idea. She knows I'm miserable and have been miserable and she thinks it's time we all made a change.

I'm ready. I'm ready to own my life again and be happy. This is what I need to do.