Change is Good. Karma is a Bitch. And, always keep a Tim Horton's coffee cup for emergencies.

For almost a year, I've been working as a bookkeeper. It's a 9 to 5, Monday to Friday job that requires hours of looking at a computer screen and very little human interaction. What little human interaction there is involves people asking me for money the company owes them or me asking for money that is owed to the company.

Officially, the most uninspiring career on earth. And, that includes my job as a filing clerk for London Life.

On September 5th, I left my keys to the office on my desk and just didn't go back the following Monday. I changed my cell number and even disabled my facebook account so I could just drop off the planet for a couple of weeks. Not the most mature way of doing things, but that's what I did. I've never been accused of acting like a grown up and I'm not about to change my modus operandi.

On September 7th, I took a job as a server at The County Cider Company. It wasn't planned. I was just heading home from a relaxing afternoon at the cottage and stopped in to ask for a job. I got a t-shirt that says "Cider Girl" and a 6-hour shift on the following day. It was like it was meant to be.

Flashback to a few weeks earlier, when the number crunching was really getting me down. I asked some friends via social networking to remind me how terrible it is to work in the hospitality industry. The response was fast and furious. I received several reminders, with countless examples, of the clueless-ness of people who are not servers.

I was not to be deterred, apparently. But, last Saturday, it all came back to me. It was just a shit show at the Cider House patio - we were packed and there was a lineup of people waiting for a table. Some of them were more patient and more pleasant than others.

 I got all of the usual stupid questions;
"Do you have a bathroom?"
A: "No. We squat in the vineyard."

"Do you have gluten-free pizza?"
A: "If we had such a blasphemous thing as a gluten-free pizza, it would say "Gluten-Free Pizza" on the menu and you wouldn't have to ask. We do, however, have gluten-free salad."

"Do you serve cappuccinos?"
A: "Do I look like a motherfucking barista? My t-shirt says "Cider Girl" in big red letters across my 38-triple Ds, bitch. I ain't wearin' a green apron with a mermaid's bare titties on the front. Get your Pumpkin Spice Latte lovin' ass out my face!"

I sound angry, but I'm really loving every minute of my work day. I am outside in the beautiful fall weather with people who genuinely love the food, the cider and the incomparable view of Lake Ontario from the middle of an orchard/vineyard. I smile myself stupid every day. That being said, I looked forward to a day off with my hubby to go to Le Nordik Spa-Nature in Quebec.

It was a rainy Sunday morning when we left. I was scheduled to work, but the patio is closed when it rains. So, we set out after a quick stop for a Vanilla Chai Latte at The Bean Counter Cafe. The irony of my need to order a beverage I would hate to even be asked for at my current job (one that I feel is the epitome of a high maintenance, white-girl drink) from a business titled The "Bean Counter" - a career that I have recently added to my "NeverFuckingAgain" list of things to do in my life - is not lost on me.

I drank my sickeningly sweet (but yummy) latte, as well as, some of Rod's large two cream coffee from Tim Horton's, which means a pee break in Gananoque. I continued to sip on the coffee he picked up at the On Route in spite of his continued warnings about my 40 something bladder.

Pshaw. Chelsea was only an hour and a half away. I can hold it that long with a tap running!

However, no one told me the 2014 Canada Army Run half marathon was taking place in Ottawa that day. Which means, I was parked in traffic on Nicholas Street for about half an hour. By the time I finally got onto Rideau Street, I was shifting gears and holding my crotch at equal intervals. Had to pull over at a convenience store and... do what? Ask them if they have a bathroom? They'll probably tell me to squat in the vineyard!

I switched seats with Rod and took the lid off the gawdamn extra large Tim Horton's coffee cup I had enjoyed so much. In the middle of the day, I tried to relax my pelvic muscles with my jeans around my knees and my knees up by my shoulders while I hold a paper cup under what I hope I have identified as my urethra. I stopped and started three times before I had emptied my bladder. Poor Rod, who loves me more than I will ever know, emptied my half full paper cup of steaming urine three times out the driver side window with nary a snicker or "I told you so".

The moral of the story is, karma is a bitch. However, the rest of the afternoon was spent in the beautiful Gatineaus amid the lightly falling rain with the smell of burning birch logs while relaxing in the hot tubs, saunas, and amazing floating pool at Le Nordik.

On Monday, I found out the weather in Prince Edward County cleared up at 10 a.m. The County Cider Company was open for business and just as busy as the day before. And, I had not shown up for my scheduled shift.