Other than my foot hurting from doing too much on it, this is a decent Monday.
I’ve moved my everything from my rehab station on the living room couch back to the man cave. It’s time to reclaim my proper space and if my foot doesn’t like the elevation available to it, that’s tough. I’ll get by.
From my short but brutal stint of doing nothing but entering fraudulent invoices at the oil company, I had issues with my mouse fingers on either hand. I was doing a horrific amount of clicking, averaging about 40-50 clicks per transaction (talk about an inefficient billing system) and I did a helluva a lot of transactions in a day. It got so I could barely use a mouse for an hour on either hand without pain and tingling in my fingertips. It got so I would forbid my self from using a computer on the weekends just to give my fingers a break.
It’s been two years since I put that job into my rear view mirror and I can now report that issue is pretty much in the past. So is dealing with the soulless, sightless witches that oversaw our department, some of the smallest minds I had worked for since I left Blue Cross Minnesota in the early 00s. I got spoiled at the publishing company where we were treated as adults and working at the oil company was like being tossed back into kindergarten. I miss some of the peeps I worked with but none of the insipid tools I worked for. And now my fingertips no longer remind me of that time.
I’ve done my chores for the day and I’ll make lunch in a little bit. Then I’ll spend my afternoon doing what I want to do, writing and working on the perfect query letter. Freedom from answering to The Man is a beautiful thing and I don’t waste a second of it.