(no subject)

Gotta type fast, since I've got to be at the shelter soon. I get the next two days off! Whoo-hoo! Just gotta survive today.
Got yelled at for doing my job again yesterday. *waves pike o' doom threateningly* That particular supervisor needs some valium or something. Said supe is wound up so tight he explodes even when there's nothing to get excited about. Boss-man said that he had my back, so I'm not worried.
Made another good call yesterday, which leads to this public service announcement: If you have a long-haired animal, Brush It Every Day. Brush it after it goes outside and plays in the brambles. Shave off any mats immediately. I found a little kitten in A-room yesterday with huge mats, and once I got them all off, discovered a huge ulcerated wound from foxtails that had developed with the mat keeping the foxtails in place. Foxtails are eeeeevil.
In more Olympic-related ramblings, major congrats to the Japanese team for their stunning last rotation. Y'all did it, brought back the gold your country hasn't seen since before you were born. Good job... you definitely earned it. To the US team, major congrats to you guys as well. Finally, a medal after twenty years of getting whupped by the major gymnastic powers. Just... next time, try to stick the landings? Please? For me? Ah well, silver is a good thing. And those floor exercises were stunningly good.
I've discovered a new love - water polo. Men's US vs. Croatia was entirely too much fun. They even have little roped-off penalty boxes in the pool! And the players wear very, very little. *innocent look* What?
Oops, gotta go or I'll be just asking for another lecture, this one earned.

I want a do-over.

Today... was horrid. Major cramps, and me without my midol (not that it works, besides the placebo effect), and got yelled at again. This time by my own manager. Joy. Stupid vet that works in S/N evidently didn't like my performance the other day, so instead of telling me directly that day when I could have done something about it, she tells manager to ream me out. Damnit. And that was an hour after I got to work. So there I am, hormonal and beaten and trying very, very hard not to cry in front of my co-workers. I really, really hate S/N. Give me the hospital every day of the week. If we have a problem, we friggin talk to each other about it, not wait for it to become a major issue that needs manager intervention. And for the next three weeks, I'm working more than half my time in S/N. *curls up* Right now, not loving the job. Nope.
*wanders off in search of a good book and a heating pad*