Ramblings with poor grammar

It was 68 degrees here yesterday, and to celebrate the warmth we took Jack to the park for the first time. After plopping him down in the sand I sat down next to him waiting for the joy on his face at this new wonder. Alas, it was not to be. He started to crawl over to me, but as soon as his hands touched the sand he drew them back up as if he'd been burned. (He hadn't, if anything the sand was cool). This went on for about ten minutes. He'd want to go somewhere, put his hands down to crawl, and yank them back up in disgust. My son doesn't like the sand. Is he going to outgrow this? Am I doomed to years of no sandboxes or beaches? I suppose I could look at the brightside that he'll stay where put until he can stand up and walk without propping on his hands first, but it just made me sad.
(Yes, I do know he'll outgrow it. I am being facetious. It's me, what did you expect?)

Today is my third day off in a row, and while I like it, and need it, and love not getting out of my pajamas of a day, I find myself pleased that I am working tomorrow. Now, I did mention all the clueless new people right? I know I didn't tell you the story of the new person who made me so mad I actually said something rude to her and then was so angry my hands shook for the rest of the day. (What's great is when I can go to my managers and say "I said something rude and inappropriate in front of a lot of people" and NOT get in any trouble. They love me there. What's more, annoying new girl has pissed off the wrong person and will not be there long. Ahh. Misused power.) My point being that the entire last week of work sucked hard, and in so many ways, so why the FUCK am I looking forward to it? What does that say about my life? Or my home for that matter?
I've never been that person who said they'd still work after winning the lottery. Hell no. I knew my ass would quit. So why is it that even though it may not be the lottery, the fact that I don't technically have to work doesn't seem to be sinking in? I'm taking on extra shifts, going in early (I still won't stay late though. By the end of a shift I'm very much with the "screw you hippies I'm going home") and covering for people I don't even like. Is the needing to be out of the house that bad?

At any rate, I am working tomorrow. Which makes me oddly happy. I actually may be working for the next six days, by which point I'm sure I'll have reverted to my normal, not getting dressed and leaving the house self. Really, it's win win.