I hate titles

I can't think of a title. Things. Stuff. There.

I'm still sad, and think about Puff every few minutes, even more if I try not to think of her. I want to somehow record how wonderful she was, but if I post about it now, I'd just be writing Jubilate Agno 2005.

Yes, Puff-Puff was special and beautiful, and so was Jeoffry. I still think most of Smart's problem was that he missed his cat. Kind of like I miss Puff.

I never realised how much I talked to her. She would Yip! at me almost constantly, telling me about everything. She visited with me in the bathroom just about every time I went (that was Quality Time for Puff), and would stay in there while I got ready most every morning. And we'd talk. My other two Measles are quiet ones.

It's quiet around here.

I miss our talks. Puff! Yip! Puff! Yip! Puff-Puff! Yip-Yip!

I'm trying not to engage in lugubrious wallowings, but for a reformed goth chick who feels some shit just way too much, it's hard.

Shock of my life at Eviljob today; I'd signed up to "represent" (ha...some day I'll work up to saying "conversate" without cringing like I'm hearing fingernails on a blackboard. Yeah. Right.) on a teleconference next Tuesday. News to me. Even now, I don't remember saying I would, but yet I did, apparently.

Enter the dissembling and lies. But not mine. But I took advantage of them. So I suck.

I was emailed to ask if I was ready, and so forth; I said, "huh?" Then we had the "yes, you did"; "No, I didn't" emails. Maybe, I figured, I said I would because I would have the afternoon free now, with school out. It's like me to volunteer, but I hate not remembering like this. I just don't believe I did; I can't even pull out the remote fragrance of a memory here, and I'm usually *not* forgetful. Not like that.

I had to take a break and try to recover from my brush with Alzheimer's, and I mentioned it to slick-as-owlshit Gino, who then reminded my manager that I hadn't volunteered, it was SuperMom.

SuperMom didn't. She's not doing that stuff that's being talked about anymore; she's migrated over to Gino's group (in the past year, anything remotely resembling a job description has been shot to hell in this entire department; some people have taken advantage of this and migrated, or quit, or--in my case--laid very very low, hoping no one would notice you can't "jobshare" with only one person since my jobshare teammate had her kid and went elsewhere. And eventually, if the dust ever settles, SuperMom has more going for her over there than she did here, and that's besides minority status--there aren't a whole lot of women over there--and she's more of a technical-sort.). But if you wanted to Soviet Volunteer-up someone, SuperMom is a good pick; I'm sure she's already prepared as I type. I don't know how many kids she has, but we're talking like, Brady Bunch here, plus everyone else at work. How she does it all I don't know, but she does. And she is always the one who gets everyone to sign cards, donate to gifts, that sort of thing. And she saves seats, slices of pizza and cake, and...she's SuperMom.

And I think she now also covers for Ancodias who forgot things and just really can't handle prepping for another freaking thing right now.

And who doesn't want to do anything next Tuesday. God, I suck.

So a few minutes after I came back in, my manager comes over (and scared the hell out of me!) to apologise for freaking me out before; Gino's just reminded her that she'd thought it was something she could Soviet Volunteer me for, but SuperMom is doing it. I'm just giving up a few hours this Friday instead to do an off-site task analysis kind of thing. Right?

Ummm...yeah! Right! Abso-fricking-lootley. That's why I was so confused! Ummm...sure.

"Liar!" screams my Jiminy Cricket, " and, p.s., WTF?"

No idea; in my World, I haven't volunteered for a damn thing extra, though it's been in the back of my mind that I need to start doing that again, especially if I don't want to be un-jobshared, 'cos then I'd have to quit. I'm not giving up this degree for Eviljob.

Then I get an email from Gino. So why would I not come out and play on Sunday? Because I was Not Fit For Human Consumption. I'd barricaded myself in because I didn't want to see anyone a-cos I didn't feel like talking but I had to be there, and plus I looked like hell because my eyes were all but swollen shut from crying (they were so poofed up, my face looked like, flat practically on Sunday!) because I had a pet die. And I didn't want the other people who shouldn't be asking me things but will walk from one side of the building to the other to seek me out 'cos I'm "nice" to catch the ass-end of my horrible mood. And that's why I didn't answer any phones or email that wasn't Sunday-work-related. I wanted to be alone. I still want to be alone, I just don't have that option anymore. And p.s., I'm welcome.

I KNEW it!!

I hadn't whined to Gino to fix it; I was working out my confuzzlement. I called him as I was pulling out of the parking lot. So, did I volunteer for Tuesday? Yep. Are you sure? Yep. Does my manager know? If she does, she doesn't care; I'm better at writeups, and SuperMom is better at talking to people she can't see. Geez. I'd offer up everything I'd prepared, but... Yeah, yeah, yeah...you don't have anything. Ummm...I suck. And so what pet was it, he wants to know; he figures me to be a cat or gerbil type. I tell him about Puff and try to not wallow too lugubriously. Damn; he should've laid money on cat. As callous as that sounds, it's Typical Gino; I'm not offended. Until he starts entertaining himself, and asks if I've applied for bereavement leave. Ok...enough, smart-ass. And thanks. No prob.

And I still don't remember volunteering.

So now I just have to make photocopies tomorrow (the ones I had planned to make anyway, having volunteered for Friday, right? Right!) and can totally autopilot instead of think. Which is good, because grades are due for this term like, tomorrow, and I still owe my one Top Five Fave prof two things that I am faking up right now. Err...I meant making up. Well...they both sound bad. Two four-page papers, one on an interface, and the other on a reading we did and should have handed in weeks ago, but Ancodia didn't because she was busy with Magnificent Octopus. So busy that she couldn't even attend to her own cat. What a pathetic bitch. But he in truth doesn't care; it was a seminar class, and I only missed one (which is like a record in our program), plus he's had me in non-seminar classes and knows I'm not a fuck-off. Plus he's a sweety.

I'm just kind of freaked out that work stuffs worked out so well and seamlessly, and all. Otherwise, I'd have to be doing this all weekend. That's the thing. I don't have this voluminous compendium of files on everything and dossiers on everyone like SuperMom does. She literally has filing cabinets, with manuals and packets going back into the eighties. I'm not kidding--she's that together, and she's been here that long. But I owe her something nice. And Gino, too. So I need to go pick up something for them. I'm not good at the whole people being nice to me thing. Do gift certificates cover that? Or a bear-in-a-mug? Where's a realistic gift etiquette guide when you need one???

Yip! If Puff were here, she'd help me think it through.