I was going to turn the memo into a haiku but I'm feeling less than creative and lately I’ve grown more accustomed to writing memos.
I just had a completely disgusting thought. I think I'll keep it to myself.
my mouth is incredibly dry. (no, that wasn’t it)
I am still falling asleep at work. I almost sent an e-mail to all of the supervisors in the bldg. with my sleepy typo’s in it. Luckily, I fell forward and awoke before I sent it. For some reason I have a tendency to hit the //// button several times when I'm snoozing.
Then there was a staff meeting. I was walking to my seat, ran into a co-worker and spilled hot coffee all over my shirt and hand. Unfortunately we could only find seats near the front row. Right in front of the director (who probably didn’t even notice)I made a spectacle of myself. I fell asleep and then I fell forward in my chair, dropped the handout that I was holding into my neighbors lap and jolted up very abruptly. It’s not unusual for people to fall asleep during these meetings, but it’s embarrassing nonetheless. In addition to this I have very noticeable misshapen red patches all over my cheeks.
Last night Key and I walked to the grocery store. The grocery store is right next to my apartment building. I find it pathetic that my cheeks are chapped from a five (maybe less) minute walk. Red and very very blotchy patches on my cheeks. (And I’m supposed to move to Minnesota). In addition to the narcolepsy, red blotches, and scalding hot coffee….my lips were blue from eating the frosting off a cake. Ok, two big pieces of the cake. This staff meeting was my first time seeing a lot of my co-workers since my 2 month hiatus (that sounds better than breakdown). I hope that my co-workers don’t think it was because I was busy turning into a red smurf-eating, zombie-pig girl.
Must go home and recuperate with hot chocolate or caramel cup ice cream in the afghan that k.’s mother knitted for me. *in reality I must go home and do laundry and look for the damned hamster that escaped again and explain to Ari that we have to return the Sponge Bob video game to the video store.
There will be screaming involved and “You’re not my friend anymore, Mommy’s! Why are the little kids games so difficult now? Two twenty-somethings should be able to figure out how to save Sponge Bob’s snail from the Flying Dutchman!
Anyway, ///////////.