I'm still sick. Or maybe I'm sick again. Not really sure, actually. I was better for a day or two... Yeah. I ended up taking the day off yesterday because when I woke up (the time when your temperature should be at it's lowest), drenched in sweat (a sure sign that my fever broke during the night), my temperature was still 101 degrees. Not good.

But I didn't have a fever this morning (though I am starting to get chills), so I went back to work today. But I don't feel good. Is this the flu? Everyone's always said that the flu is much worse than a cold, but I've never had a cold that lasted this long before. I mean, this is going on four weeks now, I think. I just want to feel better. *whines pathetically*

In other news, I was planning on resigning today, but we got a call from my boss saying that her mom was in the hospital and she had been up with her all night. She came in late this morning, and will likely only be here for a few hours. I just don't have the heart to hand in my resignation to her today, no matter how much I dislike working for her. Oh, actually, she's leaving now. Hopefully she'll either get a bit or rest or go spend some more time with her mom. I really do feel bad for her, even if she is...well...yeah.

Other than that, I've been brainstorming trying to work the kinks out of a Dramione story. It was a prompt that someone gave me a while ago, and it bit hard, but now that I'm looking over it, I realize that it's going to need a lot of work to make it believable. But hey, that'll give me something to do while I sit here and try not to pass out. Which reminds me...Three of my coworkers have jokingly told me to wake up so far today. One of them while I was walking down the hall. I mean, I'm not actually that tired. So now I'm paranoid about how out of it I must look. Yes, I'm sick. No, I'm not wearing any make-up, yes, my hair is still damp from the shower and is starting to break free from it's restraints, but really... My outfit matches. I'm wearing heels. I don't look that bad. I think...

Title: Begin Again
Author: jazzy_fay
Rating: G
Prompt Set: 100.1
Prompt: Broken
Word Count: 162
Summary: Sometimes a break is all you need to begin again.
Warnings: none
Notes: I don't own these characters; J.K. Rowling does. Set immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts. A/U-ish.

( Begin Again )

My Lucius/Narcissa claim table for 100quills

001.	Broken.	002.	Motion.	003.	Sarcasm.	004.	Attention.	005.	Never.
006.	Accusation.	007.	Companions.	008.	Blessing.	009.	Metal.	010.	Eyes.
011.	Shadow.	012.	History.	013.	Talent.	014.	Heaven.	015.	Green.
016.	Taste.	017.	Sunset.	018.	Laugh.	019.	Promise.	020.	Formal.
021.	Memory.	022.	Denial.	023.	Arrows.	024.	Sudden.	025.	Neutral.
026.	Thousand.	027.	Spaces.	028.	Excess.	029.	Purity.	030.	Enigma.
031.	Snowflakes.	032.	Temptation.	033.	Command.	034.	Tremble.	035.	Sensual.
036.	Family.	037.	When?	038.	Serenade.	039.	Hunger.	040.	Ragged.
041.	Sleepwalk.	042.	Glimpse.	043.	Questions.	044.	Fringe.	045.	Diamond.
046.	Passing.	047.	Flame.	048.	Happiness.	049.	Fleeting.	050.	Years.
051.	Thunder.	052.	Taboo.	053.	Look.	054.	Music.	055.	Solitary.
056.	Jump.	057.	Young.	058.	Tragic.	059.	Madness.	060.	Knowledge.
061.	Bewildered.	062.	Smirk.	063.	Moon.	064.	Summer.	065.	Weakness.
066.	Balance.	067.	Bright.	068.	Letters.	069.	Corruption.	070.	Transformation.
071.	Scars.	072.	Rebellion.	073.	Glory.	074.	Prepare.	075.	Mistake.
076.	Restless.	077.	Orange.	078.	Beginning.	079.	Sickness.	080.	Thanks.
081.	Air.	082.	Doors.	083.	Bias.	084.	Waves.	085.	Stray.
086.	Flying.	087.	Overwhelmed.	088.	Stupidity.	089.	Haze.	090.	Incomplete.
091.	Vengeance.	092.	Critical.	093.	Walking.	094.	Drink.	095.	Death.
096.	Outside.	097.	Always.	098.	Wrong.	099.	Forgotten.	100.	How?

My Draco/Hermione claim table for 100quills

001.	Broken.	002.	Motion.	003.	Sarcasm.	004.	Attention.	005.	Never.
006.	Accusation.	007.	Companions.	008.	Blessing.	009.	Metal.	010.	Eyes.
011.	Shadow.	012.	History.	013.	Talent.	014.	Heaven.	015.	Green.
016.	Taste.	017.	Sunset.	018.	Laugh.	019.	Promise.	020.	Formal.
021.	Memory.	022.	Denial.	023.	Arrows.	024.	Sudden.	025.	Neutral.
026.	Thousand.	027.	Spaces.	028.	Excess.	029.	Purity.	030.	Enigma.
031.	Snowflakes.	032.	Temptation.	033.	Command.	034.	Tremble.	035.	Sensual.
036.	Family.	037.	When?	038.	Serenade.	039.	Hunger.	040.	Ragged.
041.	Sleepwalk.	042.	Glimpse.	043.	Questions.	044.	Fringe.	045.	Diamond.
046.	Passing.	047.	Flame.	048.	Happiness.	049.	Fleeting.	050.	Years.
051.	Thunder.	052.	Taboo.	053.	Look.	054.	Music.	055.	Solitary.
056.	Jump.	057.	Young.	058.	Tragic.	059.	Madness.	060.	Knowledge.
061.	Bewildered.	062.	Smirk.	063.	Moon.	064.	Summer.	065.	Weakness.
066.	Balance.	067.	Bright.	068.	Letters.	069.	Corruption.	070.	Transformation.
071.	Scars.	072.	Rebellion.	073.	Glory.	074.	Prepare.	075.	Mistake.
076.	Restless.	077.	Orange.	078.	Beginning.	079.	Sickness.	080.	Thanks.
081.	Air.	082.	Doors.	083.	Bias.	084.	Waves.	085.	Stray.
086.	Flying.	087.	Overwhelmed.	088.	Stupidity.	089.	Haze.	090.	Incomplete.
091.	Vengeance.	092.	Critical.	093.	Walking.	094.	Drink.	095.	Death.
096.	Outside.	097.	Always.	098.	Wrong.	099.	Forgotten.	100.	How?

Guess what I did on Friday? I had two interviews; one here at the museum, one at the Law School for a position as Program Assistant for Development and Alumni Affairs. Guess which job I want? Neither!

But the good news? I got offered a promotion at the card shop. Yeah, I know, Front End Supervisor sounds pretty pathetic compared to Study Center Manager/Volunteer Coordinator or Program Assistant, but you know what? I don't care. It's been fun working there, I get along with everyone, it's just a much nicer work environment. And the best part? They're more than willing to be flexible and work around my schedule so that I can take classes. There's not much point in taking a job that I can't stand for the sake of the educational benefits, but then being unable to use them because I'm not allowed to take time off to attend class. So now the only problem is quitting here at the museum. I sort of feel bad for even considering leaving them without a replacement, but then again...I'm not willing to stay indefinitely. When I accepted the interim job, I was told that they would be interviewing during the second or third week of April, and that they would make their decision by the last week of April. Well, as I said, I interviewed on Friday (May 2nd), and I was the first interview. For that matter, the other interviews (there are supposedly two more) aren't even up on the calendar yet. So if I do the nice and morally correct thing (according to my own compass), then as interim, I'm stuck here while they take forever to fill the position. In fact, I sort of feel like the reason that they are taking so long is because I'm here...sort of "what's the rush? We have someone for now; we have time." But that isn't fair to me. But if I turn in two week's notice, I'll feel horrible for abandoning my post before they've found the replacement they want. So what I think I'm going to do is give one month's notice. Four weeks should be plenty of time, if they actually look instead of pushing it into the "do later" pile.

Which leads me to my next problem: how do you write a letter of resignation? Particularly if you think your boss might loose it went you turn the thing in. I've only ever had two jobs (this and the card shop), so I've never quit before. Anyone want to give me some pointers? I gather that it shouldn't be too honest:

Dear Ms. X,
Please accept my resignation, effective in four weeks.
Working here has been an experience that I will never forget. In fact, years from now, when I have earned my first million as the author of a hilarious and disturbing glimpse into the inner workings of museum operations, I'll be sure to mention you in the credits. Nevertheless, my time here must draw to an end, as I have been offered a position at a company where my work is valued, my educational goals are appreciated, and my sanity is not tested on a daily basis (monthly, perhaps). I wish you all the best in finding my replacement, and will be happy to help train the new manager, provided the position is filled before I leave (not that I am adequately trained myself, as you have pointed out on numerous occasions, usually under your breath). Here's hoping that my replacement will last longer than I did. Actually, I hear that the record for my position was a whopping two years. Good luck with that.
Best regards,
Kat

Guess what I have?
Stomach flu! Whee! Right. That's in addition to the cold from Hell, which is still kickin' the tar out of me. I'm starving, and I had plans to meet Mom for lunch at one of my favorite restaurants, but the idea of actually eating, regardless of how hungry I am, is just...not good. Not good at all. In fact, I think I may very possibly end up finally getting past my plateau weight. Of course, dropping down to 115lbs in only a few days is probably not as good a thing as I'm trying to make myself belive. In fact, it's probably a Very Bad Thing, especially when you consider that no amount of exercise, diet, or sloth has been able to change my weight from a steady 123-125lbs in the past three years.

In addition to stomach flu, and the cold from Hell, I also have an interview at the law school for a job as Program Assistant for Development and Alumni Affairs on Friday. Hopefully, this will be over by then. Oh, and I got a pair of adorable rain shoes over the weekend (I needed a present, damn it!), but I'm much to lazy (i.e. queasy) to bother posting a picture of them now. In fact, I think I might not be coming back to work after lunch. Ugh.

Alright, I'll be the first to admit/acknowledge that when I'm sick (as I most certainly am now), I'm not exactly the brightest crayon in the box. I'm an only child, and if I'm going to be completely honest, I was more or less the stereotypical spoiled little princess growing up. My parents took the "OMG! She coughed! Quick, get her to the doctor!" approach to my health. So as an adult, when I get sick, I get cranky, whiny, and go into full-fledged self-pity mode if I'm not well on my way to recovery within 24 hours. So having been at work for a full week with the flu/cold/sinus infection from Hell, I'm not at my best right now. But still, help me out here...Tell me that it isn't just me and that I haven't gone completely insane (maybe the virus has spread to my brain...who knows?):

The docents at the museum do this senior outreach program where they bring reproductions of art from our collections and hands-on stuff to local nursing homes for the people who are unable to make the trip to the museum. They have units, and there are specific curriculum for each. It's all grant funded, and it falls under the auspices of the education department. During my one week of training, the girl I replaced headed one of the docent meetings for this program because my boss was away at a conference. As far as I could tell, she just set things up, and nodded a whole bunch while the docents talked. She gave me absolutely no instructions about what my job would be at these meetings. Nothing. Yesterday, while I was away at lunch, my boss left a few supplies for today's meeting in my office, as well as a stack of papers that she needed copied for the meeting. I explained that I really knew nothing about this program, or what I was supposed to do (other than make the copies for her), and she said "don't worry about that; I'll handle it. You don't really need to do anything." Great! A nice, clear answer! Just what I was hoping for. So this morning I come in, I make the copies, and I put them and the originals back on the stack. Now, as it happens, today is also the last day for the front desk attendant, who is a very sweet girl. So we had a little party for her. Coffee, doughnuts, that sort of thing. That began at 8:30. The docent meeting was at 9:00. My boss showed up at about 8:45, saw me sitting around talking with some co-workers in the galleria, and carried on about her business. Business that included picking up the supplies that she had left in my office. Okay. So 9:45-ish, the party's over, I go back to work. We all do. Fast-forward...11:00, the museum's open, and I'm at my desk, like I should be. My boss walks in, accompanied by a docent in need of a parking pass (which I distribute). She very pointedly says "we missed you in the meeting this morning." WTF??!!! She said she would handle it! She never once said that I was supposed to be there! The only instructions I ever received was to make copies! How was I supposed to know?!

So is it me? Did I miss some vital clue there that I was supposed to attend? Oh, yeah, and as I said, I've been sick all week. Everyone except my boss has commented on it in one way or another. Today, after standing there for a few seconds in utter disbelief, I attempted to apologize for not attending. I told her that I must have been confused, that I'm not feeling very well, so my mind's a bit blurred at the moment, and her response? "Yes, I can hear it in your voice...Sinus infection maybe?" WTF, lady?! If you could hear it today, you could hear it all flippin' week long! But today's Friday, and I'm already here, so it's finally safe to acknowledge it. Please note, there was not so much as a single "hope you feel better" or anything of that nature. She may as well have been pointing out that it's a little cloudy right now. Oh, and sinus infections (which I don't think I have, yet)? They don't get better by themselves. They're infections, so you need antibiotics, which you have to get from a doctor, which means that you have to have time to go to one. Have I mentioned that I'll also be working tomorrow? You know, as in Saturday? So I suppose I could try to get an appointment for the day after, but no, wait, that's Sunday, and my doctor isn't in on Sundays.

Obviously, I pissed off the wrong great cosmic force at some point.

I'm sick. For real. Last time, I think it was just bad allergies (really bad). This time, I've nearly lost my voice, my throat's burning, I feel weak and achy all over, and I have a fever. I took some tylenol before I went to bed last night, and I was still up half the night shivering (it was 80 degrees in the house, and I'm one of those people who sleeps with two blankets, a comforter and about seven pillows, so I should have been quite warm). I took some more tylenol this morning, and while I don't feel much better, I must be, since last night there was no way I could have even typed this. And guess where I am? Work. In my freezing cold office, wearing slacks, a button-down shirt (long-sleeved, of course), a sweater duster, and I've got a fleece blanket wrapped around my legs. Why am I here? Because I only have a volunteer for about 2 hours (roughly 12-2p.m.), and the department secretary leaves at 2p.m. So if I called in sick, my boss would have a fit because from 2-5p.m., no one would be in the study center (never mind that no one includes patrons). So I'm here. And my boss isn't. She'll come in around 9:30a.m., see that I'm obviously not doing well, and graciously offer to let me go home so that I don't get anyone else sick (you don't actually think she cares about me getting better, do you?). Until she realizes that the study center will either have to be closed for the afternoon, or she'll have to sit in here herself. Then the internal debate will start: which is worse? Sitting in here for three hours, or having someone who is clearly ill in here (think of how unprofessional the kleenexes will look)? I'm honestly not sure which will win, but either way, she isn't going to be happy with me (because I really did plan this. I enjoy feeling like this. Really. It's my kink of choice). She probably won't come out and say it, but it'll be there. I'll get the disappointed look, the thin lipped frown, the annoyed sigh, and the terse dismissal. Doesn't this sound fun? I mean, really, who wouldn't want my job?

Oh, and in my effort to get my blanket (which is black, so it matches...Gods forbid I bring in my green one) tucked around my legs, I smashed three of the fingers on my left hand between the chair arm and my desk (don't even get me started on the ergonomics of this arrangement). So they're bloody, my cuticles are trashed (I just got a manicure yesterday), and there are apparently no band-aids in this godforsaken museum.

I've decided on the best approach to viewing my job here at the museum: inspiration for a future novel. I mean, think about it...the entire genre of chicklit seems to be based on the basic plot of average twenty-something girl gets job that sounds great and turns out to be crap. I'm average, I'm twenty-three, I have a "great" job at a museum, and, uh, it's actually not great at all. Bam! Instant NYT best seller!

That levity aside, I just got to witness the cattiest power struggle evah between the director's secretary and a visiting artist who was setting up for a show. I mean, it was hard to believe that these women are both several decades older than me, and are at work, no less. And as the only member of the education department that's actually here today, I was stuck there the whole time, not knowing who's side to take, or what to do. So I stood there. Thankfully, we have the nicest security staff in the world, and two of the guys were in the room setting it up for a meeting. I was seriously worried that the "ladies" were going to get physical, or at the very least, start telling each other off. But they didn't (not that you couldn't tell that they'd love to have a go at one another) and the guys pretty much kept up a steady stream of trying to re-assure me that it wouldn't be my fault if they did. Still, that was...well, yeah. I was raised to believe that there is absolutely never a justifiable reason to carry on like that, let alone to do so in public. It was incredibly awkward, and I only hope that it doesn't get back to my boss (particularly not the part where I stood there wringing my hands and saying "um" a lot). Oh, and before the two of them nearly got into it (or did, depending on your standards), I apologized to the director's secretary for not knowing that there was a meeting in there today (never mind that I had absolutely nothing to do with scheduling the artist and was just trying to help out once I found out that she was here and no one was assisting her) and her response was "well it's been on the calendar for months" with a pointed glare. Um...I've been here for, oh, about three weeks, four if you count my training period. How silly of me not to remember.

God-all-freakin'-mighty, I'm bored!

It's only 9:46a.m., and I'm completely ready to go home. Why? Because my job, more or less, is to be a warm body that sits here all flippin' day long. Yes, I occasionally have things to do, but those are all dependent on other people. And I'm stuck in here by my self, with no one to talk to. I've reached the point, where I'm thinking that even if I'm offered this job permanently, I won't take it. I mean, the number one reason that I want it at this point (aside from the nice pay), is for the educational benefits. But, the catch is, I'm stuck at my desk all day. Someone has to be in the Study Center as long as the museum is open. So I can possibly take morning classes (as long as I can make it back here by 11a.m.), or night classes, thugh I figured out way back in high school that I'm at my academic peak around 11a.m.-3p.m.. I have volunteers come in to give me lunch breaks, but the thing there is that if I get stood up and miss lunch, I'll be cranky, but I'll get over it. If I get stood up and miss class, well...Some things are unforgivable, and making me miss a lecture is one of them. So day classes are just a bad idea.

So I'm going to start poking around and see who else is hiring at UF ( I want me some ed. bennies), but given the draconian budget cuts that are going on right now, I'm not sure how much luck I'll have. But this sucks. A lot. I did not go to college and graduate with honors to sit and stare into space for the convenience of others all day.

/rant

On another, far happier note, thank you soooo much to everyone who commented on the last post. Dogwood is doing a lot better now. He's still not fully recovered, but he's getting there. He's currently getting benedryl and a cortical (probably misspelled that) steroid.