Dangerspouse Rides Again

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Garage - Track

Oct. 23, 2003 - 5:06 a.m.

First off, I have to welcome my friend and fellow Radio Sufferer radiogurl! She's really neat-o spiffy keen, has a great writing style (especially when she's doing short stories, hint hint) and is currently beating my ass in a "Who's Uglier" contest. Stop by and say "Hi" to her, wouldya? She needs all the encouragement she can get, since she's a demure wallflower who wilts if handled otherwise.

In other news: I'm on vacation!

At work!


I don't even know how to begin this one.

Yes I do:


Do you remember how I've mentioned practically every single goddam entry I've made here that I hate waking up at 1:30 in the freakin' morning in order to go to work? Don't get me wrong, I actually love what I do. And getting out of work at 9am certainly has its advantages (especially since NewWifey(tm) works til 2pm). But...goddam, I feel like vomitting every time my Wallace-and-Gromit clock sounds its merry little theme song just an hour and a half into each new day.

Some months ago when NewWifey(tm) was considering taking an overnight job to better synchronize our schedules, she asked me "How long did it take your body to get used to those hours?" The only thing I could answer was "I'll let you know when I find out."

I think the most frustrating aspect is the mental confusion - and I mean the mental confusion on top of my normal, constant, mental confusion. Not that it usually matters, but I often forget what day it is. Or the names of my co-workers. Or the station I'm on (makes for some interesting out-cues). Or to wear shoes. Things like that.

Well this morning it did matter that I forgot what day it was. Because it was the first day of my five day vacation.

Last night, had you asked me, I would have told you it was Tuesday, not Wednesday. But since nobody asked me, I didn't bother to double check. And you know what? If you'd managed to convince me that it was indeed Wednesday, it wouldn't have made any difference. I'd already forgotten that my vacation started on Thursday, not Friday. I'd made the request for this vacation three weeks ago, virtually guaranteeing I'd have no memory of doing so by now.

Therefore last night at 5 o'clock I made my customary Gin and NyQuil cocktail, and an hour later kissed the Corgi and patted NewWifey(tm) goodnight.

7 1/2 hours later I'm donning my sock garters, downing some leftover sushi, and hunting down my car keys. I fired up the mighty WRX and an hour later pulled into the parking lot of Soulless Radio Conglomorate, Inc.

Standing at the elevator is Ginelle, one of the fill-in announcers I see whenever...well, whenever a fill-in announcer is needed. Say, to cover someone who's on vacation.

"Hi Ginelle" I say cheerily. "Who you filling in for today?"

She's looking at me funny.


It STILL doesn't sink in. Me? I don't have any scheduled days....

Wait a minute. It was starting to come back to me.



I looked at Ginelle. Ginelle looked at me.

"Tom" she said. "Tom...I know it's your day off, but since you're here....would you mind staying? I'm so tired, and I've got things planned all day after this hellacious shift and -"

"Shut up and go home, Ginelle."

She didn't even look back. Just whoosh!...gone.

I once missed a flight this way. You'd think that would have been enough of a wake-up call to keep it from ever repeating. Nope.

What's that you say? A daybook? A PDA?

Forget it. I own five of each. Can't remember where I've put a one of them.

Oh well, at least I have the next four days off. That is, if I remember to not come in tonight.

I can't promise anything.....

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