| Oct. 20th, 2008 @ 05:26 pm (no subject) |
|---|
Okay. Really now. October has just gotten to be a bit...much. Undesirable bordering on irritatingly offensive. Edging toward Utterly Ridiculous with growing haste! Sure, things might have started pleasantly enough with my office filled with dung. Which, I will admit, I'm not ashamed, has happened on occasions before. Comes with the job. Sometimes. Dung happens. But at least usually we know why it's filling the office.
But, Do Not Worry, because the crafty clerks on the Ministry's payroll put all our minds at ease by discovering the origin of the Mysterious Dung. It's such a relief to know that it wasn't just an accident but a mistake because we have had employees working the accounts that had, if not the IQ, then certainly the attention span equivalent to the previously lamented excrement. The only thing that was better was finding out the Uppers response was going to be to lay people off. Leaving us short-handed. At least I got a short break before that one happened. Because of the dung. All the dung.
Of course, the person now on the top of my own personal (not that it really exists) Most Wanted list, Willis, decided to take our worries off all those pesky problems by unleashing TROLLS. In HIGHLY POPULATED PUBLIC AREAS. Where was the logic in that? It's not even helpful. It's a hindrance. A giant club waving hindrance to the movement. All it amounted to was an even more scatterbrained department, damaged goods and people and just bad Vibes all around. On the positive side of the club, however, I got to experience the speediness of St. Mungo's again when I got my leg fixed. That was enjoyable.
I plan on surviving this week and heading to spend the weekend at home, with my father for his birthday. I take a great deal of comfort in knowing that in just a few days the most provocative things that could happen are either my dad actually beating me at the crossword or when Mr. Cake next door becomes convinced that his wireless is haunted and runs through the garden screaming. That's more just tolerably odd, really.
After that? I will leave the safety of Cornwall, debate whether it is possible to hide in my bed for the rest of the month (the outcome most likely being a decision of 'No' but...you never know) and return to work. I will probably become to busy to write in this again but that's okay as I've now written more than ever before. I think it seems like if I write in this less often the concentration of events almost makes my life sound exciting. Or, at the very lest, less of a monotonous mire. Oh. Right. No more M's. Let's amend that to Less Prosaic. |
