It started first thing. I’m going over to a friend’s straight from work, and have a coleus for him. Since it’s pretty damn cold here today, I didn’t want to leave it in the car, so I put the large grocery bag with the plant in it on top of the bin in my cubby. First thing – I get an email from my boss telling me I couldn’t leave the grocery bag on top of the bin. I wrote back explaining what it was, and why I couldn’t leave it in the car, and that I didn’t want to forget to take it with me, and that it would just be there for one day, but, no, I must do something else with the freakin’ grocery bag.
And it’s “plan out next week” day, which requires that I review everyone’s calendars – including that of the Asperger’s guy, for whom “I’m sure it’s fine, but I don’t have time to look at it right this second” isn’t a happy-making answer.
And my typesetter sent me a bunch of pdf files I need to a) print out and b) forward to test-solvers, and they kept mysteriously killing themselves when I unzipped them – though we did manage to figure that one out before I actually got inappropriate with anyone.
And the inhouse typesetter continues to ask me questions to which the answer is inevitably “I don’t know offhand, and you can look it up as fast as I can.”
And …
You get the idea.
If I can live through the next two and a half hours, though, I’m off to my friend’s, where we’ll hang out and eat dinner and probably watch TV for a while before heading out to hear a really, really good blues/rock guitarist tonight. (Which means that I’ll stay up way too late and will have an hour’s drive home at about 2:00, and I’m way too freakin’ old for this kind of shit.)
Backrub would be nice – but I’d just get pissed off when the email arrived from my boss, “I’m sorry, I can’t allow you to get a backrub in your cubby.”
Why the drive home? Why not crash at your friend’s place, then have a nice brunch in the morning? Or will that interrupt your grumble grumble grumble-fest?
Former lover turned pal – I’d be willing to do friends with benefits, he’s not interested … all in all, easier (for his peace of mind, if not for my grumbleosity) to just go home.
Hm, Ice Wolf – bummer about that whole Antipodes thing – a shoulder rub would be a definite treat at this point. Maybe unkink my neck a little too, hmmm?
They’re redoing the interchange where I get on the Turnpike from work, so I totally missed the entrance and wandered off in another direction altogether – and if you take the first exit south of there on 309, guess what, “To Oreland” means it goes to Oreland, not under 309 and giving you an entrance ramp back on so you can do an easy U-turn. Although I’d never been on that particular road, I knew more or less where I was and where I was headed, so I just kept going, and took a totally stupid route on local roads that ended up taking me to the next interchange on the Turnpike, then when I got off the Turnpike, I misremembered the number of gas stations between there and my friend’s house (it turns out to be zero), so I had to do a Uie on that road to go buy gas, because not all the stations are open 24-hours, and I didn’t want to have to deal with buying gas at 2 AM anyway, so I went and bought gas (at $1.87, god bless the state of New Jersey) and made it to my friend’s house only an hour after I left work – not bad for what should be a half-hour trip.
Grumble grumble grumble.
But he didn’t feel like cooking, so he took me to this very nice Portuguese restaurant (I had steak with some yummy side dishes of beans and kale and rice), then we hung out and watched an “on-demand” concert of some whiteboy musician going to Mali to jam with the locals, and he was annoying but the music was good, and then we went over to the bar (and damn, that’s a lifestyle I don’t miss at all) and the music was GREAT and we stayed for two sets but decided to leave at 1:30 instead of hanging around for the last set and I made it home by 2:40 and was asleep by 3:00, so it’s all good.
Did I mention I was having a less-than-great day yesterday?
My guess is I short-circuited between your monogram and that of my favorite music reference site, AllMusic, which I keep bookmarked (mentally and cyberwise) as “AMG,” since I first encountered these folks offline, as publishers of the All-Music Guide.
Either that or “She’s no floozy – she’s magnificent.”
