After skipping paper work, not this last Saturday but the one the week before, due to being sick and the tech guys taking down the network for testing. I got caught up on nearly three weeks of paper work this last Saturday. I hate paper work. I am glad they at least let me generate most of the documents to my liking and need as well as let me organize it all my way.
edited 3rd Mar '14 2:11:28 AM by TuefelHundenIV
Who watches the watchmen?Asking here because it's work related, but not really directly so.
Anyway, one of the requirements at the plant is steel toed safety shoes. The problem is that the ones I have (safety shoe versions of hightop Reeboks, which in retrospect weren't the best decision but it's $100 or so for replacements that meet BMW guidelines) tend to eat socks, in the form of making my big toenails tear holes in them.note
Now, I did a little searching online, but realized that I have no idea which brands of steel toed socks are good or are crap. Any suggestions, short of either biting the bullet and buying new shoes and continuing with buying ordinary socks on a regular basis and throwing them out after they get holey (so to speak)?
edited 3rd Mar '14 7:31:09 AM by Nohbody
All your safe space are belong to TrumpI do keep them regularly trimmed, as close down to the skin as I can without drawing blood. Still causes problems.
As for wool socks, didn't even think of that, and I do have a couple of pairs that I rarely wear, left over from my boot camp issue from 2 decades ago.
(For the most part, stuff accumulates and then goes to hide in the dark corners of my room to keep from getting thrown out.
)
edited 3rd Mar '14 3:18:04 PM by Nohbody
All your safe space are belong to TrumpYesterday one of my students was asking me a million questions about how to go to a show. He is an ESL student and has never been to a show before.
He wanted to go see the touring ballet Moulin Rouge. I couldn't figure out why he wanted to see a ballet but then he told me that he always wanted to go to the theatre the show is going to be at. It's a beautifully refurbished Vaudeville house that was built about a 100 years ago. I tried to steer him toward the touring version of Beauty and the Beast. We talked for about 15 minutes about what to wear, what to expect, how much tickets were, where the best seats were, all kinds of stuff. I came out of the conversation feeling like I had actually succeeded at doing my job. It doesn't happen a lot.
I started a second job this past week, working in a butcher shop. I am learning a lot. And the dogs think I smell delicious.
The job will close the gap for the summer and I hope I can save some money to do some traveling with the Baroness.
It's been seven years since I've done any food work so I am hurting in spots. It's also weird not to have the autonomy I'm used to having. But I gotta say the 25% discount is freaking awesome.
I have a new playpretty for Four White Horses/Bipolar Tailoring. After three different people let me down at different times, I got tired of carrying the new-old sewing machine and table around in the back of the car, and wrestled it into the house alone, by what Mr Maddy would have called "sheer bloody-minded determination".
It's a Juki. Industrial machine. Won't choke on anything less than about six layers of canvas. Haven't got it all hooked back together yet — that's tomorrow's expedition in madness.
The table support is made of 2-inch square iron stock and weighs about 15 or 20 pounds. It was awkward to handle but not too heavy.
The machine head is — well, it's entirely iron. It's about the overall size of a 10-pound sack of potatoes, but weighs somewhere around 40 or fifty pounds. I managed it, but not easily, and I had to give some real thought to where I set it down, so that I'd be able to lift it up again.
Then there was The Tabletop. Ah, the tabletop. Thing damn near killed me. It's a slab of particle board, roughly 2 inches thick, 2 feet wide, and 4 feet long, with a formica surface, and an iron tray that the machine head sits down into. And a four-hp iron motor bolted to the underside of one end. It weighs more than the machine head. And it's hideously unbalanced, to boot. And large enough to be difficult even if it wasn't as heavy as a small child. But I got it out of the car. And I got it into the kitchen (that involved stairs. 5 of them). I got it into the loving room. And then I looked at the base and said to myself, "Self, just how in bloody hell are you going to get that thing three feet up in the air and onto that table base? Hmmmmmm?" And myself said back to me "Sheer bloody-minded determination. Let's do this thing." So I did.
My back is killing me.

Yeah, it would. That's a bit of a stretch.
Not a substitute for a formal medical consultation.