Miscellany

The walk to work today was a veritable Snow White winter wonderland, with all sorts of critters bopping about. Chickadees called loudly from the trees, as did insistent crows and an attitude-ridden squirrel. But what caught me by surprise was a stray dog. He was a young German Shepherd, long, tan, and lanky. He looked lost and scared. I called to him, but he was afraid and wheeled away, but not before staring at me with glowing silver eyes. They gleamed like they ought to at night against headlights. It made me pause and stare. But then he blinked and bounded away.

Now I'm firmly entrenched at a work station where I'm surrounded by the murmer of people talking on phones and the pachyderm-like sounds of people blowing their noses. It's cold and flu season, and I'm part of it. I thought I was almost better on Saturday, but had a big relapse on Sunday. And now I feel like crap on a stick. I hope my cold and flu pill kicks in soon. Booking rooms is really hard to do when it hurts to talk.

In other news, gha5t and seraph_x teamed up and gave me a brand, spanking-new computer (well, new to me, at least). It still doesn't have all my old files transferred over, but so far, it seems to work a lot more smoothly than my old dinosaur. I'm this much closer to getting the old one turned into a DDR machine. Maybe.

Do you know what happened to my watch? I was wearing it yesterday, but it's apparently gone to the null dimension. I may have to buy a new one, because I really can't do without one at work or at dance class. They have ugly ones at the dollar store which fit in my budget. I guess I'll have to check out the enormous digital display choices.

I'm Dying

If they offer me a go-home-early today, I'm nabbing it. I can barely talk.

In fact, I might go home even if they don't. It's That Bad.

My Throat Feels Like It's Stuffed With Pain Pillows

I left work four hours early. From the way my throat feels (even worse), I can't imagine being able to work tomorrow. I don't have any sick days left. This means I'll be "written up," which means I will not be eligible for promotions or transfers within the company.

I need to have a job where I have an option of doing work which doesn't require me to speak. If I could just do paperwork until my voice came back, I'd be fine. But apparently there's no paperwork for me to do.

Someone hire me, 'kay? I'm an excellent worker, so long as there's work I can do.

Ink

If I ever get a tattoo, I'd like Grisha Maslov to do it (some nudity). I especially like the blue, wrap-around insects on the top right.

And now I'm off to bed. The Neo Citran is kicking in, thank goodness.