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dragonlady7It's a dreary Tuesday. I had Dave drive me in, because I bought a plant for my co-worker whose mother-in-law died and couldn't carry it all the way to work. I forgot-- I was going to wake up early and work out, to make up for not walking. But I didn't, so I'm fat today. I didn't eat lunch yesterday, but I ate dinner AND dessert last night... so today I guess I'll eat carrots and cottage cheese for lunch in a I-have-no-time-to-assemble-real-lunch fit of late-80's denial dieting.
It's a depressing day. I fought it by cleaning my co-worker's desk-- just tidied and dusted-- and heroically tidying the desk next to me, which is devoted to an ancient computer and dusty printer for specialized stuff we do. The shelf came un-anchored from the wall, so our awesome computer-etc- guy's fabulous solution was to take all the heavy books off the shelf-- and put them onto the desk, where he immediately spilled coffee on them and didn't really clean it up. This guy has an office in the back corner of the floor, which is the most disgusting thing you've ever seen. Potato chips older than I am roam the area, and are hunted through the mountains of clutter by dust bunnies larger than my family's big cat Snick. The filth spills out into the hall.
I am determined that this will not spread to the desk next to me. I took all the books, organized them, and put the ones about graphics onto the desk next to my co-worker's (we're a 4-person department at half staff, at this point. More shelf space for us!), and the ones about forms and printing on the windowsill behind the ancient computer. Then I cleaned the dried coffee from the desk and dusted the coffeestained forms that had been put back up on the unsafe shelf. Sigh.
I slept poorly last night. The last thing I read before going to bed was Darius' blog: one of his high school friends was found dead in a Dumpster. Isn't that wonderful? So I had nightmares about that, during which Dave was useless. He's not much good when asleep. It's a horrible story. Horrible.
I hadn't been reading Darius' blog at all. Dave reads it sometimes, I guess. It's generally an entertaining read. Or thought-provoking, or whatever.
But sometimes there are just horrible things in the world, and I hate the feeling you get when the horrible things come to you from something more immediate (if less heavily browsed) than Google News. I don't wanna know people who know people who were senselessly murdered. Let it happen to strangers. Let me not have to think about it. Because there's nothing I can do to stop assholes from killing women who make the tragic mistake of rejecting their unwanted sexual advances.
*shudder*
I'm going to go clean some more things... That helps, but for some reason I never do it when I'm at home. That's a darn shame... my house is a pigsty.
In another update about my phone, I'm still getting calls meant for Joyce now and then... but at the moment, my phone is acting as a mobile phone. The marketing director/secretary (there's a muddled position... she was the marketing director's administrative assistant until he left. Now she does his job. At her old rate of pay.) needs it to talk to the service guy about our color printer, so she's got it by its long cord alternately over by the printer and over by my coworker's desk. It's a corded mobile phone... I can see why those didn't sell so well.
I'd rather my phone was farther away than closer, to be sure. Now it can't ring.
And a correction about Dave's immediate boss: he says "frickin'", not "freaking", and is currently sporting child-molester facial hair, because he's a Nazi. That is all, thank you.
It's a depressing day. I fought it by cleaning my co-worker's desk-- just tidied and dusted-- and heroically tidying the desk next to me, which is devoted to an ancient computer and dusty printer for specialized stuff we do. The shelf came un-anchored from the wall, so our awesome computer-etc- guy's fabulous solution was to take all the heavy books off the shelf-- and put them onto the desk, where he immediately spilled coffee on them and didn't really clean it up. This guy has an office in the back corner of the floor, which is the most disgusting thing you've ever seen. Potato chips older than I am roam the area, and are hunted through the mountains of clutter by dust bunnies larger than my family's big cat Snick. The filth spills out into the hall.
I am determined that this will not spread to the desk next to me. I took all the books, organized them, and put the ones about graphics onto the desk next to my co-worker's (we're a 4-person department at half staff, at this point. More shelf space for us!), and the ones about forms and printing on the windowsill behind the ancient computer. Then I cleaned the dried coffee from the desk and dusted the coffeestained forms that had been put back up on the unsafe shelf. Sigh.
I slept poorly last night. The last thing I read before going to bed was Darius' blog: one of his high school friends was found dead in a Dumpster. Isn't that wonderful? So I had nightmares about that, during which Dave was useless. He's not much good when asleep. It's a horrible story. Horrible.
I hadn't been reading Darius' blog at all. Dave reads it sometimes, I guess. It's generally an entertaining read. Or thought-provoking, or whatever.
But sometimes there are just horrible things in the world, and I hate the feeling you get when the horrible things come to you from something more immediate (if less heavily browsed) than Google News. I don't wanna know people who know people who were senselessly murdered. Let it happen to strangers. Let me not have to think about it. Because there's nothing I can do to stop assholes from killing women who make the tragic mistake of rejecting their unwanted sexual advances.
*shudder*
I'm going to go clean some more things... That helps, but for some reason I never do it when I'm at home. That's a darn shame... my house is a pigsty.
In another update about my phone, I'm still getting calls meant for Joyce now and then... but at the moment, my phone is acting as a mobile phone. The marketing director/secretary (there's a muddled position... she was the marketing director's administrative assistant until he left. Now she does his job. At her old rate of pay.) needs it to talk to the service guy about our color printer, so she's got it by its long cord alternately over by the printer and over by my coworker's desk. It's a corded mobile phone... I can see why those didn't sell so well.
I'd rather my phone was farther away than closer, to be sure. Now it can't ring.
And a correction about Dave's immediate boss: he says "frickin'", not "freaking", and is currently sporting child-molester facial hair, because he's a Nazi. That is all, thank you.
