It’s heartburn and headache day. A combination of PMS, caffeine withdrawal, and a brown-sugary oatmeal breakfast. I hope string cheese and coffee rectify the situation, otherwise I’ll have to resort to Zantac and Advil. I’m fuckin’ crabby. Next week I scheduled myself a four-day weekend, and let me tell you, I need it!!! I haven’t had a paid holiday since 2001, and then I still got daily phone calls like, “Where do we keep…?” “How do you order...?” So it’s going to be nice to just chill out and not have the phone ring. Right now I am enjoying holding a position of no authority.
String cheese seems to be working…
*Sigh* I can’t wait until the day is over so I can go out and do something in the fresh air and not be sitting here staring at my hideous beige fabric covered cubicle listening to a myriad of voices lilting up and down from the surrounding cubes. The guy next to me is really good with people, but he talks like an auctioneer on speed at the State Fair. And there’s a woman two rows over who giggles like a girl being felt up for the first time at the eighth grade dance, and it goes on all day every day. I wish I was exaggerating. Sometimes I want to strangle her. At least I like my cube mate, she’s super sweet. And tiny—she’s about 90 pounds even at six months preggers. She’s always flashing her ridiculous pregnant pants at me, it’s hilarious.
Whoops, late from break!
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