Free Bird…

Free Bird… And other non-wedding related tales from the week past

Free Bird:

My baby did it. He flew the coop. He’d been stressing extra hard about getting out of the B.O.P. to the point where he blamed God and I had to rip him a new one about faith and belief. I told him to hold on a little longer. Lo and behold, Immigration office posted a job he’d interviewed for before that they had mysteriously closed off, so being diligent, he applied again. And they promptly called him in, interviewed him for a second time (which seemed like a formality) and hired him on the spot. I had a mini heart attack when he told me over the phone. I found it incredibly hard to contain myself and I screamed out loud. I was INSANELY happy for him, because it meant that he could move on from this place that caused him so much pain and sadness. I mean… I understand it’s high security. But … imagine losing the keys to your workplace… and the threat of not finding them is JAIL TIME. That makes the search for your keys a gazillion times more frantic. Trust me. He and I went through it a few times… and all I could think about while overturning the world looking for the keys was, “I’ll have to visit him in a facility… they might do cavity checks… i won’t be with him for months…. BECAUSE OF SOME EFFIN KEYS?????” Luckily, we found them every time. But, no more of that. He won’t actually be dealing with the immigrants. He’ll be in HR. So now the only thing that threatens is that it’s an office full of pre-ordained-by-me trifilin’ Af-Am & Latina women. Hmph. I will have to go there and spray the walls with my presence many times. I already know what those offices are like. And although I know my baby’s not down with that… some chicks don’t know when to say when. PLUS he has an intoxicating upper body and arms that I’ve had to scowl at folks that know us both to not ogle and touch in front of me. So like… perfect strangers? Yeah… I’m in for a fight. *gets brass knuckles out of closet*

Most importantly, out of nowhere, his whole attitude has changed. He’s more loving and attentive. Has told me that I’m beautiful like… once every day (unsolicited)… more fiesty… and much more talkative and witty. That jail was really a strain on his life. As he put it so poetically today, “He felt a slow death of his soul the longer he stayed there.” And although I understood where he was coming from, I told him that the workplace should NEVER be the determinant of how your soul feels. You should ALWAYS be able to separate it out. He pleaded the case for why he allowed it and I let him, not trying to make it into an argument. But the bottom line is… he’s on the upswing and I’m loving the view.

Extra Attention

Much to my pleasure / surprise, Gi and I have been holding it down in our office since k-dot’s departure. We were unsure that we’d be able to do it, considering what a hellacious place they made it into for him. But we really all think it had everything to do with when he spoke up at the office staff meeting. Everyone seems to be attributing his ultimate demise to that day. But he didn’t get fired. He left. I guess the thinking is that he was forced out. And I guess after the multitudes of meetings I had last week telling everyone what I thought and how I was feeling, the attempt to appease us has begun. A few bonuses here and there for our extra work and today, this:

I was all giddy when I first got them. Then I saw they were from the administration and it all slowly melted away. Like… the flowers you get from your man after he broke your nose in a drunken rage the night before. They could be the most beautiful flowers in the world… but it doesn’t seem sincere. More of a… “please don’t leave… and i’ll try not to kick your ass again.” I shoved them to the side of my desk and tried not to be too anoyed at the wax vase that I kept accidentally scraping my fingernails on. Uck. I guess I should take them for what they’re for. They are beautiful…and perhaps I’ll revel in that.

I guess that’s it for what i can remember of my catchting up. I’ll just start from tomorrow, tomorrow.

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