I just returned from chasing Kilgore across the street. We went out for a walk, and I failed to notice The Neighbor's cat in our side yard. Having a less than vice-like grip on the leash, I of course lost it when he bolted. The cat looked momentarily smug (this has happened before) while he watched the leash unwind to the length at which KG is normally pulled up short, left barking and whining in my grip, but then his smugness turned to panic as the dog was suddenly on top of him. Luckily, he managed to get away, but unluckily he bolted across the street and ran behind his own house, with KG in hot pursuit, followed by his (now fully extended) leash and a clunking plastic handle, which was followed by Wyatt and me. I was yelling at the dog while also yelling to The Neighbor, trying to reassure him that KG would not in fact, eat the cat. When Wyatt and I finally arrived on the scene, Wyatt proceeded to squat and do his business right at the neighbor's feet while Kilgore raced around behind and under the house in pursuit of the cat. Eventually (this really only took a minute or less, but it felt like an eternity), Kilgore got his leash tied around enough random boards and posts and whatnot that he was stuck. I handed Wyatt's leash to The Neighbor, apologizing profusely and promising a quick cleanup, and then made my way as carefully as possible (wearing clogs, which we all know are fabulous climbing shoes) down toward Kilgore. The yard is at an impossible angle, so there is an immediate drop off beside the driveway that drops even further behind the garage. In between there are piles of dirt and ash, as well as ditches (I presume they were dug to help water runoff, or they were dug by water runoff) spanned by rotting boards, and various posts, old shutters, and the like.
What I discovered, much to my dismay, was that despite The Neighbor's constant attention to his lawn, driveway, and various and sundry mechanical devices (he is forever trimming, refinishing, and puttering), the place was actually a total mess, and very dangerous to boot. There was no way for me to even get around back there to figure out where the leash was stuck, much less to untie it and get the dog out safely. I could barely reach him at all, due to the aforementioned mess and the lay of the land up here on the steepest block in Vermont. After nearly breaking my neck and slightly injuring my already-sore ankle, I got close enough to unhook the leash from KG's harness, then grabbed hold of him and dragged him back to where The Neighbor was waiting with Wyatt and Wyatt's business. I switched Wyatt's leash to KG, and then hustled both of them back across the street, apologizing over my shoulder.
I opened the door calmly, still smiling, and then closed it behind us and proceeded to spank Kilgore harder than I ever have before. I then grabbed a grocery bag, ran across to collect Wyatt's mess, put it in the trash, and came back inside and sat down and cried. Is this what a nervous breakdown feels like?
I have been burning the proverbial candle at both ends this week, working early and then late and then early, then going to a meeting at the Local Restaurant after my other job yesterday, where it was explained to us in no uncertain terms that we were expected to wait tables as well as bartend. Some of you may be aware that this is not exactly good news for me. After the meeting I went into my the office of the Big Boss (at least, he's our Big Boss, but he has many bosses, if that gives you an idea of what I'm dealing with) to discuss this. The end result is that I will not only be working seven days a week henceforth, but that I will likely be working at both jobs on one or two of those days. This is not what I was hoping for. I thought that when I went from four jobs to two that I would actually have some time to myself. I believe I was wrong.
So presently I am out of coffee and minus one dog leash, and reporting to work in four hours to be be trained to do something I really, really don't want to do. Tomorrow I will work from 7am to 3pm, then go home and change and report back at 5pm for another job (food runner, which is a waitress that doesn't have to talk to the guests as much) I don't want to do. Then I will bartend on Saturday and Sunday night, and Monday- well, I don't know, because the schedule is not up at either job for next week.
But I don't work full time, so I don't have health insurance.