Sassy's Up Late Again

I'm trying hard to enjoy my 3-day weekend. Stupid Fibro--I really wore myself out cooking Thanksgiving dinner. I thought I'd be OK since I could do it all a little at a time--seriously, I was never on my feet for more than 20 minutes. But by the next day, I was hurting everywhere and just completely drained. I really needed a day off to recover, but naturally I was scheduled to work the next 8 consecutive days! On Day 8, we were exceptionally busy, and I didn't get much of a chance to sit down early in the morning; by about 10am, I felt like my lower back was broken and my feet were about to burst open. Even my neck muscles were spasming. Faaanfuckingtastic. I was at a teller window that faces perpendicular to the rest of them, so if someone approaches from that direction, I cannot see them unless I turn around. Because my other 2 co-workers were busy with customers at the desks, I was the only one running a teller drawer. This crusty old bitch comes up to the counter and stops at the furthest point from me at the opposite end of the counter. I'm in a lot of pain and I realize I have to make it through another 6 hours, and it wasn't looking like I'd have much chance to sit down any time soon, so I had begun to be more conservative with the amount of walking around I was doing. Besides, it's fucking rude as hell when they do that--stand 12 feet away from you and then expect you to come to them, walking back and forth between them and your computer 3 or 4x. So when I heard her plop her purse on the counter, I turned around and said (politely, I might add), "I can help you over here." She didn't look up and was rifling through her purse. I figured she was looking for her deposit or ID or whatnot. Twisting to see her in that direction set off the spasms in my neck, so I turned around to my computer again, waiting for her to walk around. I hear more figiting and heavy sighs. This is not the first time I've gotten that attitude from someone who's been told to walk the 6 steps over to where my station is located, but I'm not taking the bait. I continue to wait with my back turned to her. Finally she comes over, and throws her deposit on the counter at me. I catch it before it falls on the floor and proceed with her deposit without a word. "You shouldn't make me walk over here." Before I can say anything, she's shouting at someone across the other end of the counter: "That's MINE!" Someone had gotten onto her little electric cart and was about to drive it away. They apologized and got off, she went back over and moved it to the other side of the bank, near where my boss was sitting, and directed him to guard it for her, adding, "Because SHE made me walk over THERE!!" Now don't for a second start feeling sorry for this bitch. I could care less if she lost her fucking cart. If she really NEEDED one, she'd have one of her own. 90% of the people who use those damned carts do it because they're too fucking lazy to walk, and most of them wouldn't be so damned fat if they walked once in a while. She continued to bitch to me about forcing her to take 6 steps, and once again informed my boss that I had FORCED her to WALK. I never said a word to her, because it was taking every bit of what little energy I had left to restrain myself from informing her that I am at least equally as "disabled" as she was, I have the FMLA papers on file with my employer to prove it, and her 6 steps will have far less of an impact on her health than the 12000 more that I had to take before I could go home. Boss just frowned and shrugged at her like, "Whattya gonna do?"

But one day off just sitting around and being lazy and I'm feeling much better. I'm hoping today I have the energy to clean the kitchen. Even thinking such things makes me feel like I'm 3x my age.