Shula has decided that working like a dog for 50 hours a week and having a boss that would rather take an interstate resort holiday than pay his workers is no longer amusing. Rather than just kill him on the spot (I was very tempted, given the pitiful amount he pays us at best), I chose instead to radically cut my hours, and bugger the financial consequences (which will no doubt be considerable). I plan to spend my free time looking for alternative employment, and discovering new and interesting things to cook with a bag of dried beans and a carrot.
Lollies are all very well in theory, but packing them on an assembly line for 10 hours a day, anywhere up to 6 days a week is just a bitch. To have nothing to show for it after 6 months, apart from pinched nerves in the feet and clicky wrists is stupider still, and to be too tired to talk one's daughter at the end of the day, well, I always vowed that I wouldn't be that sort of parent, no matter how little money we had to live on.
Shula is BACK. She has a LIFE to live, yo, and to prove it, she even started an embroidery. One that doesn't hurt the wrists too much (very, very sore they are, dudes).
If anyone would like to tell her what the fuck happened to her EYES in the interim and how to get her sight BACK, she would very much appreciate it.