(no subject)

Odd habit I've adopted:

On the ride in to work, I put my headphones on and blast Matchbox Twenty's Mad Season album all the way. If we pull out of the driveway as Angry's starting up, and Last Beautiful Girl is still playing when we pull into the Sheraton, I'm on time. ;) But that's not why I do it.

I do it because I can barely sit still while this album plays, and it helps me to hit the ground running.

So tonight I'm noting this because I have two very drunk wedding parties in the bar. The weddings are tomorrow. Sleep is apparently not on the agenda. Ahh, well. At least they're happy drunks. If a bit, erm, tactile. I wore a skirt tonight, and I'm guessing it lowers the intimidation factor or something, because thus far I have had my bottom patted, my cheeks pinched, been hugged and high-fived, and been invited to party with them in someone's room. My response to which was to note the room number. It helps to know beforehand where the noise complaints are gonna come from. ;)

I love my job. :)

(no subject)

Quick update to yesterday -- after the bar closed, at about three AM, a phone call. Mother of one of the brides.

C: Thank you for calling the Sheraton Service Promise helpdesk. How may I help you?
M: I just wanted to tell you, in case you don't watch the news, there's been another shooting. (very slurred.)
C: Has there?
M: Yeah. The sniper struck again in Virginia. Isn't that funny?
C: Well, thank you for letting us know. Have a good night.
*she hangs up.*

... so, just how drunk do you have to be to call up the front desk hours before your daughter's wedding to inform them of the latest news break?

(no subject)

The days passed quickly, the pace set by nurse's visits and the non-demanding presence of the baby. She slept almost as much as the newborn did the first day or so, waking for progressively longer periods of time to hold and attempt to feed the child. The second evening, she awoke to find that her milk had come in, and she laughed nervously at the sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. It was temporary, she knew, but it would take some getting used to anyway. For the moment, she showered and then improvised a binding with a towel, hoping to keep the distension to a minimum. She kept Lyssa with her for a long time that night, relieved when she actually woke up enough to eat, her serious eyes opening, then drifting shut like a doll's. Aside from the wailing at birth, she had not cried, not even when given her first vaccinations. When returned to her crib so that her mother could eat her own dinner, she simply closed her eyes again, and slept.