Good Effing Friday

I am debating on whether or not I should leave work early today. I am bored out of my mind and have done nothing at work today besides blog surf and IM Spliff for a few minutes.

It only took me fifteen minutes to get to work today which led me to believe that a giant meteor had crashed into my town and that everyone was trapped under it. Then I thought about how wonderful it would be if the thing slammed right into my building at work and that, when I got there, it would be nothing but a mass of flames and smoke and I could turn around, slip right back into my pajamas and pull the comforter up over my head.

But I got here. And there was no meteor. And no mass of smoke and flames. And then I realized that the lack of traffic was not due to some freak natural disaster. It was due to Good Friday. And that just pissed me off.

Schools are closed. The Post Office is closed. Everyone is at the beach. Except me. I am sitting in my office. Where it still (despite the “Fixers” being called AGAIN) feels like a morgue. I just went outside and there are no clouds in the sky, it is hot and lovely. The perfect beach day. I hate perfect beach days when I am stuck here. Nothing makes me bitter more than that. Nothing.

But I did, as a consolation prize I suppose, get a little easter basket with entirely too much chocolate in it. This, from the same friend who bought me the Smoothie Maker of Doom that allows people to easily drink a half a handle of Captain in one evening. She is out to destroy me. But in none but the most pleasurable of ways. Thank you, Friend Who Hates Her Husband #1, Thank you.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to bang my head repeatedly against my keyboard until a) I am sent home or b) I am Baker Acted.

Good Day. And Happy Good (Pissed Off) Friday.


shirley said...

Erg - I had to work too. Am proceeding to drink my ass (along with various other body parts) off, per your instructions!

aaron said...

ummm..I've noticed that progressively each and every blog you write is getting more hostile. Are you okay?