This morning we were discussing the fact that people in my department only seem to take vacation days to catch up on our day to day life stuff. Sure enough, by the end of the day I’m booking tomorrow off to get some stuff done. This kinda sucks, because I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning, which I would normally just get to take off for free, but now it’s on my vacation day. Anyway, when I’m not getting my legs checked out I will be engaging in the time honoured tradition of the last minute crunch. AngelA and I need to pretend we’re part of a massive design team that’s been working for months on merchandise planning for the TVA Food Fair. I use “pretend” loosely, because of course there are tens, no hundreds of people on the team, and we’ve been working for months (I never know who will be reading…) on the many incredible styles and products. No matter, the end result will of course be speechless amazement on behalf of the purchasing folks, I have no doubt of it. This will be the springboard to a new business, wherein we will focus on looking like a big company with padded schedules that will in fact fund our drinking junkets. I think it becomes a junket when you wear a fez. Experience is truly the best teacher.
In other news, did I mention that I’m seeing a doctor tomorrow? Yes I did. It’s not a rash, that’s all I’m saying. Someday I’m going to get a tattoo of a rash, but I’ve probably already used that joke.
Oh, I forgot to include this in an email to someone tonight, so in the event that you’re reading: last night I dreamt that I was going to see a concert in your basement. You were the star, but you spent most of the time tuning your guitar. While waiting I spoke at length with your sister (whose existance is as tentative as the brown and yellow couch she was sitting on), and in the course of the small talk I realized that I had promised to rent a room several months earlier, but I never showed up. I still wanted the room, but it was a bit awkward, and I was starting to wonder how many, if any, of the people in the basement knew that I had booked a room and never payed or showed. I don’t know how it turned out, because I left the concert soon after to buy Mac stuff. Just thought you should know, in case you were dreaming of tuning a guitar that in all likelihood you don’t know how to play.