Ahhh, the time of the season of frantic-bastardry. I'm using my caring-and-concerned sports-fan work persona to answer all kinds of unclever email questions. I really don't understand how someone could both work in this office and root for the team. There's a direct correlation between how well we're doing and how much freakin' work there is to do. Our baseball team? Is sucking. Which means no post-season madness. Which means 'YEAY!' in my book. It's only a short leap to desperately hoping our team tanks, and I'm nothing if not pragmatic. Except in the ways that I want to date fictional characters and make out with trees.
I have thirty-two hours worth of sick leave! And thirty-two hours worth of vacation, which I can start using...at the end of this month! I can feel the miser in me activating, ready to accrue and accrue and stack days-off like shiny shiny gold coins.
Current Mood: busy