Losing It

I couldn’t stand it, so I grabbed two guys I work with and headed to the cafeteria for some lovin’ in the form of frozen yogurt and peanut butter cookies. The three amigos too the elevator, walked three-wide through the corridor, switched to single file up the stairs and then back to three-wide – daring folks in khaki and Egyptian cotton to mess with us on our mission to seek semi-frozen solace in a polystyrene embrace.

I got double chocolate and new york cheesecake in a manly swirl, doused in in chocolate syrup, caramel and oreo bits and then walked truculantly up to the line. Oh yeah, I waited patiently for my turn to weight my confection and profer my money to the short Latin lady older enough to be my mom. I then grabbed a spoon. I would have grabbed more, the The Man was watching. Then, my two partners in snacking crime headed back to our pofficles (pod + office + cubicle) to enjoy our treats.

Then, I fumed. And then I got some water and popped a cough drop. Now, I’m listening to Groove Armada while I work on even more stuff (except right this minute, because I’m writing this). There is one e-mail kept as new in my box, and I will do nothing with it until tomorrow, I swear on all that is obtainable out of a metal bin at Target for ninety-nine cents. I am going to leave soon, proudly waving like the Queen without her tiara or pillbox hat as I exit the building, go down the stairs into the bowels of the basement to my chariot and depart.

Before I leave, I just wanted to tell you I’m tired and I’m cranky and I don’t want to work out today. But, I like you. Really, I do. Just not in that way.