Making a schedule is HARD. I spent four hours on Sunday attempting to cover shifts fairly, without exceeding our allotted hourage. It helped my shift pass, and once I finished, I felt extremely contented. There's nothing like hard work to make you appreciate things. Today was pretty crazy, too. The whole layout of the store needs to be revamped, requiring shifting and transferring and cleaning. The day flew. It's going to be a good week. I work tomorrow, Wednesday off, Thursday is inventory, Friday off. I was supposed to work Saturday morning, but Tami took the shift so I could come in Sunday night to help finish implementing the merchandising changes. This means two carnival days are completely work-free. The carnies have already started filtering in. This morning we saw a piece of a funhouse (or possibly a fake jail) in the dirt lot to the left of the plaza. There was another object, resembling a really big granny smith apple, which I can only assume is a people-sized fondue pot. Very exciting.
I think I'm bipeoplar. That's not a typo, I just made it up. By which I mean as of quite recently, I either am delighted to be in the presence of others, or freaked out. This evening I'm freaked out. It's like...like when your feet are being tickled, but it doesn't tickle good; it tickles bad. Like irritation, but without being irritable. It's the two extremes. I'm not sure if small town living is doing it to me, or if it's age, or who knows what else. Bipeoplar.
After watching a special on Loretta Lynn's Haunted Plantation last night (and after having recently seen Coal Miner's Daughter for the first time), Jeremy and I decided that it might be time for another trip to the south. I excitedly suggested we request travel brochures from various states and major cities. So that's exactly what we did. Half in Jeremy's name, half in mine, all due to start arriving in 10-15 business days. If you've never had random vacation guides sent to you en masse, I highly recommend it. I haven't done anything like this since 2000...I had an atlas or gazeteer, or some kind of travel book with pages of coupons in the back. All you had to do was put your name and address, and drop them in the mail. I sent a few to friends, and saved the majority for myself. It didn't result in a vacation, but, at least for me, sometimes thinking about the vacation is good enough. Planning adventures is almost as good as taking them. Anyway, what was I saying? Yes. There are a myriad* of eateries we'd like to patronize, along with some killer scenery. There are other things, but I can't tell you what they are until our catalogs get here.
*Usage Note: Throughout most of its history in English myriad was used as a noun, as in a myriad of men. In the 19th century it began to be used in poetry as an adjective, as in myriad men. Both usages in English are acceptable, as in Samuel Taylor Coleridge's “Myriad myriads of lives.” This poetic, adjectival use became so well entrenched generally that many people came to consider it as the only correct use. In fact, both uses in English are parallel with those of the original ancient Greek. The Greek word mrias, from which myriad derives, could be used as either a noun or an adjective, but the noun mrias was used in general prose and in mathematics while the adjective mrias was used only in poetry.
About the tiny paragraph above here? I checked with dictionary.com about my usage of myriad, because I wasn't sure if making it a noun was accurate, and managed to learn something interesting. I just thought I'd share.