I've decided that I can't be witty at 10 am. The caffeine hasn't sufficiently mixed into my blood stream to make my mental synapses of any use. However there's something special about the last couple hours of the work day. It's too late to do anything really productive, but the right time of day when all the bile and bitter resentment has built to a magnificent crescendo and comes spewing forth in a torrent of razored criticisms and laments.
My coworkers have been eying me wearily as I use my scissors to shave off another curl of plastic from the end of my ruler. The proactive person that I am, I've been sharpening it in preparation of ritual suicide -- though it might be more poetic to just leave the end dull, but that would be the equivalent of trying to slit your wrists with one of those plastic knives that comes in the wrapped pack with the equally useless spoon, fork, and napkin. Useless and messy. Then again maybe the ruler is just a precautionary measure. I shall mount it over my desk in a glass box with a sign that says. "Break In Case Of Emergencies." That'll get their attention.
Oh but hark, I actually have work to do now that it's half past two in the afternoon. How generous.
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Like a prodigal roommate, Fala came back from Texas for an extended visit (ie: till October) while she sits out the mandatory quarantine for her cat before he can be admitted into the UK. I have to say I really missed her even though she drinks my gin with Country Time lemonaid.
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