I have three days until the fourth quarter... and six days worth of work to do. This morning I stood in front of the copy machine, a cup of coffee in each hand. One of our warehouse employees strolled up, noticed I was double-fisting, and asked what was wrong. "There are never enough hours in the day," I mumbled sleepily. To which he replied, "Not enough hours? Why, there's 24 just in one day! That's 1440 minutes. Or 86400 seconds-"
At which point I tossed one of the cups, grabbed the back of his head, and proceeded to slam it into the filing cabinet.
A girl can dream can't she?
I'm a fairly optimistic and cheerful person... usually. But on my occasional bad day, I feel like happy attitudes are akin to wild animals. They're fine at a distance. But up close? You run the risk of being mauled by them. And once one comes up, the rest of the pack has to follow. Then you're standing there shooting daggers (out of your eyes) and wishing you'd never enticed them in the first place. Thankfully, this morning my assailant was a rouge.
As I downed one of my coffees and grabbed the stack of papers the copy machine had just spit out, I heard "You'll see the light. It's going to end up a beauuuuutiful day!" I hadn't intended on answering. But then a sick thought creeped into my mind. What if he didn't stop? What if he came by repeatedly during the day to check up on me? I had to nip this one real quick. So I turned to face him, licking the coffee from my teeth. "Listen Buddy... I don't mind if you're happy. Just don't rub it all over me like it's contagious, OK?"
I turned back toward the door, satisfied with my quick response. Until...
"You know it takes more muscles to frown than smile!"
*Sigh* Only 57 hours, 42 minutes, and 18 seconds until Saturday.
Emma's new family went to the humane society yesterday morning to pick her up. She was fine, despite the questionable people taking care of her. They let the family go ahead and sign the paperwork for her, but she won't be released until Friday. The pound is going to have her fixed and checked for diseases. You're probably wondering why they didn't take care of all that during the five days they had her... Evidently she's important enough NOW, since she's bought and paid for. I'm just glad it all worked out. I'll feel even better when she goes home on Friday. Thank you all for your well wishes and prayers!
Quick "Chick" Joke:
A man has six children and is very proud of his achievement. He is so proud of himself, that he starts calling his wife, "Mother of Six" in spite of her objections. One night, they go to a party. The man decides that it's time to go home and wants to find out if his wife is ready to leave as well. He shouts at the top of his voice, "Shall we go home 'Mother of Six?' His wife, irritated by her husband's lack of discretion, shouts right back...
"Anytime you're ready, Father of Four."
Post-It Note: If you haven't done it yet, don't forget to vote on a new header! You have until Friday at 11 to rock your vote.
Pickles and Cows