Bored yet busy

I'm stuck in the office today. I have been all by myself most of the day, which is nice, but I'd kill to be on a service (well, not literally). I am actually getting things done though, so I'm glad for that. Since the office I'm running is new there are a ton of little organizational things that I need to do, and I did some of those today. The Kid has too many families right now and seems really stressed, so I am helping him as much as I can. At least it gives me something to do, even if it is super-secretarial.

So, I know that isn't much, but at least it's something.

In which I was having a great day until...

Fuk. I'm not going to rant, I'm not going to rant, I'm not going to rant...

I am making arrangements for the interment of a veteran in one of the national cemeteries.  His remains were cremated and the next-of-kin gave me the DD214 (discharge form) so that I could arrange for the free burial that he is entitled to (did you know that all honorably-discharges veterans are entitled to a free grave and marker?), and I faxed it in to the National Cemetery scheduling office this morning.  I waited a while and called them to make sure they would have had time to receive the fax, and talked to a sweet lady that took the deceased's info and scheduled the graveside service with me in about 5 minutes. She took the date that I requested for the service and asked what time:
Service Lady: What time on that date would you like the service?
Me: is 11 available?
SL: Lemme check *clicky sounds on the computer* Um, the closest I have is 12:30.
Me: *notice that Big Bird is standing over my shoulder holding her desk calendar, and turn to look at her*
Big Bird: *whispering* 11 o'clock today? I have an opening for 11:30, not 11!!! *panicking now, but still whispering*
Me: *to the SL on the phone* Please excuse me, I'm being interrupted. *exasperated, to BB* I am on the phone, and this has nothing to do with an appointment here, nor is it for today.
*BB feels like an idiot and walks back into her office to eavesdrop on the rest of the fucking day, and I feel like shit for having been an ass hole*
*to the SL* Sorry about that, did you say 12:30? That's just fine.
etc...

WTF? Why is she so effing anal about the fracking calendar? Why does she think that I am incapable of checking a fucking calendar to see when we have appointments available? Am I really that incompetent? Am I new here? Why am I so angry?

And this is what really sucks: I was in *such* a good mood today! Here are my reasons why (maybe they will help calm me down):
1. I slept well. J and I went to the spa last night before bed, and although it was WAY too hot, I feel quite refreshed.
2. We didn't get too busy at work this weekend, so today has been less hectic than the past few Mondays.
3. I'm not sure why, but my boobs look GREAT today.  Maybe they got perkier overnight, or maybe my vision is failing in my old age, either way, they're adorable.

But, alas, I am sitting here, relaxed and perky, and in a foul effing mood. Somebody, please, cheer me up!

UPDATE:
Part of my good day list is two blogs I've been liking, that I am sharing with you:
Is this thing on?
Late Enough

I would LOL but it would interfere with the pouting

Monica got flowers.

I am totally jealous.

See, I'm not really the type that gives a shit about getting flowers (well, not that much of a shit anyway), and I'm definitely not jealous of getting red roses (yep, Monica got red. fucking. roses.), as I'm not a rose person, but she got them from a family she did the services for, and that makes me jealous.  I couldn't have cared less if they had been from her man (cuz he's totally unworthy of her, and all other women), but from a family? Because they were grateful? And with a card that reads "Thanks for the wonderful job you did???" You would be jealous, too. I deserve flowers, damn it. I'm a fucking charming embalmer. People love me...don't they??

So, here I sit flowerless and jealous. Maybe I'll steal them...

Doll, if anyone asks, nothing happened last night

The title of this post was the first thing the boss said to me this morning when I saw him at work, and without knowing what it was I did last night, it sounds pretty juicy...

Yesterday, by the end of the day we had 9 new cases.  I already had two families scheduled to come in today, one at 10 and one at 1130.  Pretty close together, and I was feeling a bit of pressure knowing how hectic today would be, not counting whatever cases died overnight.  Anyway, the boss comes in yesterday around 430:

Boss: Doll! It's been a long day! Boys night out tonight. After work. (Lists the guys that are gonna be there)
Me: *laughs* I'm one of the boys??
Boss: Yes, Doll, one of the guys in particular made sure you were notified.
Me: Is your Sugar Lips gonna be there?
Boss: Definitely not. No girls allowed. And no telling the women, Doll. It's a secret boys night. We're going to that new beer spot in town.
Me: *confused* But I'm not a boy. I don't even look like a boy. *starting to panic* BOSS! DO I LOOK LIKE A BOY???
Boss: *chuckle* You don't look like a boy. *another chuckle* But the boys think you are one of us, you are more vulgar than we are, so you're an honorary boy. And you can hold your beer. We like that.
Me: *slightly embarrassed* That's sweet boss.  I have Clem tonight though.
Boss: You need a night out, kiddo. Bring her with you.
Me: What about J? It sounds like girlfriends are forbidden from this boys night out.
Boss: She's good to go. The old guys want to meet her anyway.
Me: So lemme get this straight, Boss. You are having a boys night out at a pub and you are inviting me, my daughter, and my girlfriend?
Boss:*laughing* You coming or not, Doll?
Me: We'll be there... Wait! are the Giants gonna be on???
Boss: You're too much, kiddo.

So, we went out and had a great time.  And apparently so did the boys.

And I'm super swamped. The family I met with at 10 lasted til 12, so Monica had to meet with the 1130 which sucks because she had just come in from a funeral Mass about 10 minutes prior, and as I was finishing up with the 10 o'clock we got a new case that was supposed to be here at 2 and still hasn't called or showed up.  Jane is pissed because I am busy with four hundred pounds of paperwork and families that don't show up, so I cant work in the prep room and she's got more bodies than she can handle in an 8 hour work day.

Fuck. At least I got to have a couple of beers last night.

In which I was busy

Eek!

High profile cases were everywhere last week.  I am glad that's over.

I had a baby (preemie, lived two weeks) service yesterday- a graveside- and the priest was a half-hour late, and it was cold outside.  I was not too happy, not to mention the family was irate, but as soon as the service got started it was okay.  The sun even came out for a few minutes.

I had lunch with Big Bird yesterday as well, and it was quite awkward.  She is just so strange.  And I feel like she doesn't quite know what to say to me with the whole divorce situation.  She does ask about Clem, making sure she's okay, and that's nice, but I sorta feel like she wants details and doesn't know how to ask.  So, the lunch was a bit weird (to say the least) and I ended up getting hit on by a guy eating next to us (which she brought up to the rest of the office when we got back, embarrassing me a bit).  Very odd.

We ended up with a total of four suicides in the last two weeks.  Two gunshot wounds to the head, one OD on pills, and one suffocation, all self-inflicted (obviously).  I'm not too sure what's with the suicides, but whatever.

This week I have an AIDS case.  It's one of those cause of deaths that seems like it would worry those of us that work with the bodies, but doesn't.  See, AIDS is a very picky virus.  It can't live long in a body that isn't the right temperature, unlike Hepatitis or TB, so once a body has been refrigerated for a while it is unlikely that the remains could infect one of us (that, and it's blood borne, not airborne (again, like TB)).  The AIDS case is an older man, and from the other things listed on his death certificate it seems like he probably contracted it from needles.

Also, I have a Facebook page if any of you want to be a fan (but if you know me in real life, please don't, as I am a bit paranoid).

Eight things

1. A 500 pound dead person is very large. Not to mention hard to lift into a casket.
We got a large one this week. VERY large. Like size 60 pants. Anyhoo, he ended up taking three tanks of fluid (each tank is about three gallons), and luckily (as with a lot of over-sized people) was on some sort of blood thinner before he died, so the fluid pushed through quite nicely.

2. When the office smells like marijuana nobody will fess up to being the culprit.
Not really sure what to say about this one, but the place stunk for a bit this morning.

3. Turns out that it is always better when someone leaves a suicide note.
We had two (that's right, two) self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head cases this week, neither one of which left a note, which means the authorities have more work to do to prove it was a suicide, which can make life even more difficult for an already distraught family. Imagine finding out your husband/wife/child/parent has died, then add them seizing your phone, computer, mail, bank records, etc., to investigate you in their death. Not fun.

4. The office staff do a great job of singing “Happy Birthday”
My birthday is coming up, and the boss and one of the co-workers won't be here tomorrow, so they sang to me this morning. It was nice, and we don't do that for each other normally, but I always make cupcakes for the staff on their birthday, and I think it's their way of appreciating me on my day like I do on theirs.

5. Not everyone I expected to be at my 30th birthday party is going to be there. Actually, the people I expected are the ones not showing up.
Kind of bummed about this one, especially since it's a major milestone, but I'm gonna have fun anyway, and am excited about seeing my old roommate from college whom I haven't seen in a couple of years. She's flying in from New Jersey.

6. Moving into a new apartment is a pain in the ass, especially with a full-time job and a small child.
Not really anything to say about that, except that I found my own place and have moved out of the hubby's apartment.

7. When we get wrong numbers at the funeral home, they can be quite funny.
Call went like this:
Monica: Happy Days Mortuary, this is Monica!
Caller: Yes, hi, I would like to speak with someone in your Parts Department.
Monica: Excuse me?
Caller: Yes, Parts Department please?
Monica: Sir, this is a funeral home.
Caller: I can hold.
*puts him on hold and starts laughing hysterically.  Like the kind of laughing that makes one pee their pants. Finally stops crying from laughing so hard and tells me what happened. I laugh and ask if she wants me to take the call. she says yes. I pick up the phone*
Me: This is Doll, can I help you?
Caller: Yeah, hi, I was calling to get your prices on (some word I don't remember) fibers. Can you help me with a quote on that?
Me: Sir, You have called a funeral home (I'm speaking slowly at this point, figuring that a prank caller would have given up by now, and this guy must be hard of hearing or retarded).  Are you trying to reach *name of company that we get calls for all the time*?
Caller: Yes, isn't that you?
Me: No, sir, this is a FUNERAL HOME.
Caller: *laughs* Oh, I'm sorry to have bothered you.
Me: Oh, it's no bother, have a nice day!
Caller: Thanks, you too.

8. It is not easy to get lip prints from a dead lady.
There's a company that makes jewelry from thumb prints.  The stuff is awesome (and I think it's even cool to do for a non-dead person, like a baby or pet) and we sell quite a few of them.  This week however, we had a family that wanted something made from their mother's lip print.  We explained that it wouldn't come out looking like a kiss, as mom couldn't pucker any longer, and they were fine with that, so we spent the better part of an hour trying to get prints from this lady's mouth.  Oddly enough, the jewelry company had run into the same request before.

I wasn't lying

So, the final body count for the month of December: 86

Do you realize how many that is?  I suppose it really isn't that bad if you work at a funeral home that does 2,000 cases a year, but I don't work at a place like that.  we do about 700-800 a year, so that's 20 more bodies than our average on a high year.  Insane.  See, I told you I was busy.

Also, my manager told me yesterday that he had something that he wanted to bring me that I would love.  I laughed and asked what it was and all he would tell me was that it had to do with boobs.  ANyway, he gave me it today, a rubber bracelet that reads, "I *heart* boobies!" Needless to say, I have it on, as it matches my outfit and I do indeed heart boobies.

It's like being in an episode of The Twilight Zone

So, this week has been unending.  We had six services today, and new families to meet with.  It was insane.  We had five services yesterday.  I have just about gone mad.

Anyway, there's a visitation tonight, it starts in just a few minutes, and the family was a little late in approving the info we have on the deceased, so Buffy is just finishing up on printing the programs and register book.  He's been super busy all day anyway though, so it's not like it would have been completed a long time ago had the family approved our paperwork sooner.  Anyway, Big Bird (funeral office Nazi) just took a call that apparently was a family member of the visitation-tonight-guy, letting us know that we had an incorrect middle initial for him.  So, she tells Buffy and he just says, "great, now I have to reprint the book and everything." He sounded really sad when he said it, you could hear the I-thought-today-was-over-and-now-I-have-to-stay-late disappointment in his voice, and Big Bird did something I never thought I'd see.  She leaned in to him (he was sitting with his back to her, she was standing behind him) and lightly rubbed his back with the back of her index finger.  It was so loving and mother-like I just about died.  Buffy even looked over at me with this "wtf" expression, and we just kinda stared at each other.  It was the weirdest thing.  So, anyway, that's all I've got for today.

Join me next week for a recap of the decapitation case...

Busy girl

I was a busy busy bee today. Tank is out of town so I have been meeting with more families than usual and have had to be the one to approve all the cremations before they leave our facility to be cremated. Jane is also out of town, but I've been to busy with other stuff to do the embalmings today so I called in a part-timer to come do them for us. Actually, I am kinda glad I didn't have to embalm today, it's been getting cooler and I am one of those people that's constantly cold anyway, so I just freeze in the prep room.

J checked on me last night and I told her that I was really hurt and sad, but that I would be here whenever she sorted all her stuff out. It was wonderful to hear the relief in her voice, I think she has been worried that I would hate her, and today she texted to let me know how much better today has been for her compared with this last week. It just might mean progress, folks.

One thing I wondered: Is there anything you want to know about my job? If not that's fine, I'll keep posting the happenings, but if there's something you wonder you can ask and if I know the answer I will tell you.

This week in a nutshell

So, a good friend of mine isn’t speaking to me.

Big Bird is making me want to kill a b****. All week she’s been riding my ass about any little nit-picky thing she can come up with. Then, to top it off her dad had a stroke yesterday and she had to leave to go to the hospital with her mom and so I feel bad for hating her. I even called her cell last night to see if I could bring them some dinner (she said no, but thanked me anyway), and I can’t figure out why I did that. I really am not that nice of a person.

Whatever, she’s back at work today, and my friend still isn’t speaking to me, and I’m on call this weekend, so… Here goes it I guess.

I'm having a shitty week

Check back in a coupla days...

Cameras in the bathrooms even

We’re having security cameras installed at the funeral home this week. The technician has been working around our services to get them installed and running. We’ve had one in the chapel for a long time so that we could watch the services going on and know when to cue music and stuff, but the boss wanted to replace it and put a few more around the building. The technician was working in the chapel yesterday and I was there working on a body and he just couldn’t believe that I had no problems working on a body. It’s so funny sometimes the way people think about certain jobs. I mean, do people really think that the line of work they are in is what everyone should be doing?

On another note: I’ve noticed that some people have found this blog because it comes up when they google “funeral poems.” Now, I don’t have any funeral poems listed here, except for the squiggly line one from Family Guy, but I’m thinking about putting a link here to some of the funeral poems that I use in the mortuary, and then that way people that find this site for that reason wont be bummed that my blog has nothing of use to them.

A little of everything

Big Bird is on vacation for a couple of days, so the atmosphere in the office is much more relaxed. We have a bit of work to do today, I have already met with one family today, as has Monica, and there are two more families to come in later. We also had a service this morning and another this afternoon, but for as busy as we are no one is too stressed about it, with Big Bird not here cracking the whip every five minutes.

My weekend was nice. I worked a bit on Saturday at a service in the chapel for a family I had met with. It was a memorial service and was well-attended, and the service went smoothly. Monica was the director on call and she was in the office meeting with a family, and she was happy to see me when she came out of the arrangement room into the office. She looked adorable, wearing a see-through, high collared cream blouse with one of those big, flouncy bows at the neckline, something that looked like it came from my wardrobe, and when I commented on how cute the top was she said that my vampire-esque wardrobe had inspired her. Pretty funny I thought, and I asked how she knows that vampires wear those Victorian type shirts and she just laughed, saying that she just imagines that they look that way and that I remind her of one when I wear those shirts. I’m not sure why, but I thought it was very funny. Anyhoo, her new family that she had just finished arrangements with was going to want viewing, and Monica didn’t want to wait until Monday to pick the body up at the hospital, but didn’t want to have to pay a service to get the body so that we could embalm it right away, so I told her to grab her purse and we’d go get the body ourselves from the hospital. The morgue tech was pleased to see us, and asked us to come back soon. I just smiled and told him that with faces this pretty the boss doesn’t like us in the morgues, but that he was welcome to stop by the funeral home anytime and we’d be happy to smile for him.

When I got home I fed the hubby and daughter lunch and put Clementine to bed for a nap. The hubby then said that I should go get a mani-pedi (which is sooooo not like me), and gave me fifty bucks to pay for it. Gotta love a gambler when he wins, right?

Saturday night we had dinner at a good friend’s house and Clem played with the toys for the baby they are adopting soon. She says she’s testing them out to make sure they are okay for the baby. Very odd. But it was fun, and Saturday night my mom had Clem spend the night so that hubby and I could go out drinking and then sleep in on Sunday, which we did.

So, that’s really it, Sunday was boring, just chilled at home and did laundry.

Now I’m just sitting in the office listening to Buck tell Buffy how it’s important to allow for windage. “The bullet and the (derogatory term used in the Vietnam War) have to meet up at the same time. If you aren’t going to reach it at the same time then what’s the use.” To which I responded that it sounded more like sexual advice than military advice. He told me to settle down and then reconsidered, “Well, now, Doll, I think you might be right.”

Three cheers for my boss

Friday morning as the hubby was dropping me off at work I noticed that the engine was overly hot, so instead of him letting me out and taking off he parked the car and opened the hood to check the coolant and stuff. The owner of my funeral home noticed and came up to the car and talked to my hubby (who was now going to be late to work, which is fine, just a pain in the ass) to see what was wrong. Within about five minutes they had decided that the car would need to go in to a shop, and my boss told my husband where to take it, and then told him that one of my coworkers would follow him to the car place, pick him up to come back to my funeral home, then let my hubby take the company Suburban to work for the day. I should mention that this Suburban is the boss’ baby, with nice chrome wheels and pretty interior, and is seldom used for work (21,000 miles on it and it’s a 2005). Anyway, the hubby says thank you and heads off to work. The owner knew I was on call that weekend, and I assured him that between my parents and sisters that I would have reliable transportation the whole weekend (and I could even drive our ’59, just not with my daughter as there are no seat belts) and he insisted on me taking the Suburban home for weekend use. He gave me a little lecture on mot parking close to other cars and not getting the tires close to curbs, and that was that. The hubby brought a nice bottle of vodka for my boss when he came to pick me up Friday after work, and my boss told me that he didn’t think we should have given him anything, saying “That’s just what you do for family. You could use a hand, and it just so happened that I could lend one.”

So, this is what I learned: My boss is awesome. Volkswagens are expensive to fix. Suburbans are crazy-big.

I didn't even remember it myself...

I got to work today a bit earlier than my boss, Tank. I sat down and checked my work email and looked in my box to see if there was anything to work on (the office opens at 6:30am so a lot of times when I get in at 8 there are already things in my in box to do). Anyway, we are pretty slow so there wasn’t anything to do, so I just worked on my photo project for a bit. Tank finally came in and sat a donut and an envelope in front of me, and I looked up at him very confused.

Me: What’s this?
Tank: It’s a donut. And a card. Open it.
Me: *open the card, have even more confused look on my face*
Tank: You’ve been here a year, it’s your anniversary card. *gets nervous* Do you like it? I got the one that plays music. I didn’t know what kind of donut you like, is that one okay?
Me: *stunned* I LOVE IT, TANK!!! You remembered? Thanks *hugs Tank*
Tank: I guess your probation is over *laughs*

So, that was my morning. I have an anniversary card that plays the theme song from Friends when it opens (Clementine loves those). Pretty nice, huh?

What women can't do

So, today I was told three different times by three different men that moving bodies wasn't 'woman's work'. um, wha?? so, I'm a little perturbed, and, at the times they were explaining to me that I was not to be moving bodies, was as well. Now, not one of the three men that told me about whose job it was to move the dead knew about the other men that had been telling me (or were going to tell me later in the day), which makes it even worse. This means that they all three think that body moving is solely a mans job (well, sort of. Two of the three think its okay for me to move a body, with the help of another (man) if all other possible men are not available and the body MUST be moved then). And these aren't big, surly, strong guys, just regular (old) guys. And don't get me wrong, I appreciate that they are worried about my frail, feminine body, but come on. I picked mortician as my profession with the knowledge that it would include body moving, even when the body is heavy, or gross, or whatever. It's what I do. And also, the main embalmer is a woman. I don't see them coming in the prep room at all hours helping her move her bodies. Is it that she's like 48? Or larger than I am? Or doesn't wear dresses, and therefore isn't as feminine? I don't get it.

I am so tired

The hubby had a gig last night. Two other djs came to town and they played from 9pm to 1am at a local bar. It was fun, I was in charge of taking the money at the door for the first hour or so, then some friends took over so I could shake it on the dance floor. This hot chick came up to me and danced a bit, and after a few minutes she started getting a bit handsy, I was wearing a killer blue dress (imagine Marylin's white dress in navy) and all of a sudden there are hands creeping their way up it. WTF, right? So I turned arround (the chick was dancing on my backside) and asked her what she was doing. Here's the convo:

Hot chick: Oh don't worry, I'm not a lesbian.
Me: What?
HC: I mean, you look hot, but I don't want to date you.
Me: Um, I wans't worried that you were a lesbian, I just dont want my ass hanging out all over the bar, so don't pull up my dress. And I'm married anyway.
HC: Oh, you are? Where is he? He just lets you go to clubs in sexy dresses?
Me (a bit stunned that this hot chick thinks my dress is sexy): Um, he's right over there watching you feel up his wife.
HC: Oh. *waves at my hubby* Will he let you give me your phone number.
Me: Why don't you go ask him?

What just happened there? I'm still confused. Was she hitting on me? I cannot figure it out.

Different topic:
Pete, an olf funeral director here called me up to his office this morning. He told me that his home page was changed and wanted to know why and if I could "fix it back to CNN." So I did that for him and also made a MapQuest bookmark at his request, and I swear to Buddha he thinks I am a computer guru. It's funny, the things that we can do that other generations can't.

A force to be reckoned with

It has been one of those days in which all my office work gets done by noon (which probably has a bit to do with the fact that Big Bird is back so there’s little goofing off) and I don’t have anything to do but get bodies ready and in their caskets. Jane came by and took Monica and me out to lunch (best Mexican food ever) and we came back to work full and lazy. The three of us ladies headed to the back to curl hair, put make-up on, and generally beautify the deceased cases in the dressing room. We soon finished and Monica and I decided to organize the cart that we keep all of our everyday tools/instruments/make-up on and integrate the things we bought at Target the other day. Jane made a comment that we needed to get one of those huge Craftsman tool things on wheels, which I would LOVE, but I told her I didn’t want to ask for Boss to buy it for me. The cart I use now is old, and a bit small, but it works well enough. Anyhoo, Jane left the two of us girls and we started organizing. I cleaned all the brushes (both make-up and hair), instruments, and the cart, and she went through the make-up and tossed out the old stuff and labeled all the plastic drawers we keep the cosmetics in with what is in each drawer (this helps the boys either put things back where they belong or at least leave the stuff out that they used so that we can put them away later). We were unstoppable. If it was in the dressing room it got cleaned, organized, and put away. And to make it even better, Big Bird didn’t come back to bug us once with questions about paperwork we have done the past two days while she’s been out sick. Today = Awesome

And I quote, "Yeah, I puked on my junk"

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ ABOUT GROSS STUFF

Okay, so at the end of the workday today, Buffy and I were discussing Big Bird being sick and how it's so nice that we got to have a relaxed, yet productive day. So, Tank chimed in and said that she's home with "the shits" and we all started laughing hysterically about it (just imagine a 62 year old, stick-up-my-ass, I-was-raised-by-Amish-folks-but-I'm-totally-not-judging-you-heathens type sitting on a toilet, let alone with "the shits"), as he finishes by telling us that she is also puking all day long, to which I say, "Oh is she? That sounds a lot like what Jane had on Friday (obviously insinuating that Jane (a lesbian and my best girl at work) was making out with Big Bird (a lesbian hater and a pain in my ass)), and we all start laughing even harder (I had tears). So Buffy starts in about the worst sicknesses we have all had, and we're sharing stories about vomit and diarrhea and all that stuff, and Buff shares this story:

"This one day, it was the wifey and my first, maybe second, Christmas as a married couple, and I had the stomach flu something fierce. I am sitting on the toilet with the worst butt-sickness ever, and I'm telling myself to not get that I-have-to-puke feeling, to no avail. So then I am thinking that I know I am gonna puke, and I had moved the trash can earlier to puke in, and I knew I couldn't try to get my ass off the toilet to puke in it, I would just end up making a shit mess on the floor, and so I decide to lean back, aim for the space between my legs, and puke into the toilet."

At this point I have peed on myself I am laughing so hard, and my manager, Tank, is looking at us with a 'what-is-up-with-this-generation-that-they-can-talk-so-candidly-with-the-opposite-sex-about-shit-and-vomit' look on his face, an that's when it just gets heavenly. Buffy says this:

"Yeah, I puked on my junk. All over my junk"

I DIED LAUGHING.

So, this is my question: Is potty humor always going to be that funny to me? My roomate in college was so anti-potty humor that I wondered if I was normal. I mean, two years we lived together and I just can't remember her even saying "poop," and I just wonder: Is something wrong with me??

Monday Monday

Mondays are busy. People wait over the weekend to call in and get prices, and even wait to make arrangements for funeral services if their deceased family member died in a facility with a morgue allowing for the refrigeration of the body, and then Monday morning they all come pouring in at the same time. There were four families here at 10 this morning, and one of them I met with. They were a nice family, two brothers (and one brought his wife) making arrangements for their mother’s cremation. She had pre-arranged years ago, so really they were just listening to me tell them what had been decided and what they would need to do from there. They were very talk-y and one of the brothers asked if I went to school to work in a funeral home and we chatted about the whole schooling process, and then he told me about a show that had aired a few years back about some mortuary science program in one of the schools in California. It really sounded interesting, from what he described cameras followed students around during their day and it showed their reactions to certain things. Anyway, it sounded cool.

Jane, the embalmer, called in sick Friday which is why I had to embalm that day, and she’s back now. She had been puking all weekend, but says she’s fine now, and I think we might go to lunch together in a bit.

Bid Bird, the office manager, is not here today, and everyone is a bit nuts without her. She keeps us all on the straight and narrow, and when she’s not here it’s just one big party. We all get louder and crasser and a lot more fun. Anyway, I think she is sick, she must be, as it’s unlike her to miss work on a Monday, and while I like the office atmosphere better when she’s gone I hate doing her work.

Also, this just in: Big Bird is off tomorrow too!!