Pay Cut at the Paper

Well . . . things had a chance to sink in after I had some sleep yesterday . . . AND after Willi came home and we discussed what had gone down at work. It turns out that I'm suddenly taking a HUUGE pay cut because (and my boss used this analogy), "the airplane needs to lift off the ground."

What that means is, I'm considered a salaried employee. I don't get paid over 40 hours anymore. I wasn't getting paid enough as it was, but now . . . especially after knowing I'm still going to be putting in between 50 and 60 hours until the end . . . there's no way I could have stayed here after that meeting happened yesterday. Even if I wasn't moving, I'd have to leave this job. It would kill me. For serious.

I feel bad for Andy, though. I will probably miss him most of all. He has become a good friend of mine, and I can't even believe how stinking nice he is. I am amazed at how patient his wife is. They are beautiful, kind people. It's too bad he can't spend more time with her. He needs to get outta there. I hope he does . . . I hope she doesn't ever grow too impatient. I think he knows that at some point, he's going to have to chose his life over work. Uugh . . . sadness.

Don't work for a start-up newspaper, people. It's not a good idea. I loved it while it lasted . . . but now, my body is -like- chronically tired.

I actually, for the first time in weeks, had tonight off! I didn't know I would have it off until about 9:20 p.m. when Whitney called me and said I wouldn't be needed to finish up the paper. I was so relieved, too. Willi and I were already vegging in bed. I didn't want to have to leave it. Tomorrow is free of work, but we're going to a reunion in Seymour. We have no idea what the evening holds for us. We have some pallies meeting up in Valpo, and we wanted to meet them there . . . we may still try to attempt it. The drive from Seymour to Valpo may prove to be too serious, though. Sorry, guys . . . we'll see, though.

Know what else tomorrow is?

It's mah stinkin' birthday, kids! Whoooo! 20 freakin' 4.

Wow . . . that's weird. 24. That's almost a quarter of a century.

Anyway . . . we're definitely moving. We don't know where exactly yet, but we're moving.

I need to sleep. From what Willis tells me, I have a ridiculously long day ahead of me tomorrow.