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.