Love the bit about the elevator training!
Friday morning I knocked a half cup of coffee into my tablet’s keyboard. After that it mostly worked. For a few hours. Then once the ~18 hour battery life ran down it refused to accept a charge. Amazon is sending a new one to arrive later today.
Meantime the last couple days of me pecking at an onscreen keyboard has been whole lotta vexing. At least you all get a partial break from my incessant drivel.
Funeral schmuneral. Least they coulda done is fed it to the dogs.
Keyboard’s here. Yaay!
I hope you like it a lot. Sometimes if I break something by accident it gives me an excuse to upgrade, and I look at it as a good thing.
You could always send flowers.
A bouquet of acorns would be a thoughtful gift for the next of kin.
I’m just a really terrible person. Despite the recent death in the family, I’m having an eviction squad on site tomorrow. It’s not like they’ve paid any rent since we’ve owned the house.
I don’t want them to die, but I would like them to leave.
This is a very reasonable approach.
It’s not like the recent death in the family is the reason why they’ve never paid rent.
Good morning to everyone, except for the inconsiderate jackass who decided today would be a great time to irrigate a section of a secondary highway instead of his fields. 
Aside from the disgusting waste of water during a severe drought, there was enough water standing and falling on the road to create a significant hazard.
I don’t sing love songs anymore, either
Sure it is, the person who died was the one responsible for not writing the rent checks in the past. 
For fuck’s sake. The time before yoga is not for yik-yakking away in the studio. Dos these people not see that everyone else is quietly preparing for class?
I guarantee you they’re the same ones who stand around the restroom chit-chatting while some poor soul is sweating away in a stall trying to keep from utterly destroying the toilet.
Well, June got off to a great start. Last Monday I had a pre-scheduled follow-up doctor appointment, during which I mentioned that for the previous 4-5 days I had been feeling very fatigued. So the doctor ordered some blood tests, after which I went home and immediately lay down for a nap. I was awakened by a call from the doctor to tell me that not only was my blood sugar through the roof but I was showing signs of severe infection. So I call 911 and get dressed for a trip to the ER, where they started giving me fluids and IV antibiotics. They also sampled the belly fluid which was due to be drained and confirmed it as the cause of the infection. On Thursday they drained 8.5 liters from my belly and decided to keep me for one more day for another IV antibiotic. Friday afternoon I was deemed good to go home, along with a 30 day supply of Cipro and a refill of Metformin for my diabetes.
I’m sick and tied of being sick and tired.
I’m confused.
When I’m doing my thing in a public restroom I can’t imagine caring in the slightest about anyone else doing whatever wherever.
What are you suggesting other people do differently?
That is not a mini-rant. That’s a maxi-rant.
My late wife had a longstanding issue w belly fluid. At the worst the hospital was pulling a couple liters a day. And gave her an infection that damned near killed her years before the cancer finally got her.
I personally drained ~1 liter from her every other day for a couple years. The home kits for that can be used solo on oneself, but it’s a lot easier for somebody else to do it to the patient.
8.5L is ginormous. No wonder you felt like shit.
I’m sorry you’re suffering w all this. If you want to talk about drains, PM me.
Talk to management.
“Mindfulness begins when you enter our space. Leave the world out in the parking lot.” Etc.
Me either, unless I’m trying to do my business and they are addressing me.
It drives me nuts that people do that. Like, I’m in here taking a shit and you want to ask me where a project folder is, and you can’t wait a few minutes for me to finish defecating.
Aahh .. 99% of my public big bathroom use has been in anonymous places, not the office where somebody knows me and might pursue me.
I have some ideas for stopping your cow-orkers’ bad habits cold. But the side-effects might … linger.
I was going to quip that they’re Ladie Who Lunch, but then they started talking about where to go to lunch tomorrow.
Reminds me of the bad old days when the city editor would call one of us, and not getting answer, would call a colleague and have them chase us down, including in the can.