The fun portion of this trailride I've been on the the past couple months is coming to a bitter, sad end. I'm neither bitter, nor sad, but I'm keenly aware of the dwindling numbers in the humor column here. Friday marked the passing of yet another one of my newest & funniest compadres from the tiny agency I've been calling my temporary crapshack recently. She didn't die -- yet. She may if she sends me pictures from the beach this week. She just got a better job at a better place. Much better in both categories.
And today, the unsettling reality of silence is overwhelming. Seriously, nobody's talking. Sound has died in suite 900. Who will I take hour-ish-long lunches with? Who will dare to suffer the occasional afternoon Smoochie? I'm gonna need to have a bake sale to raise the funds necessary to find my sanity, wherever it may be.
Or I could just find another job & run far away from the eerie silence of rats trapped in cages of their own making. Yeah, I'm gnawing outta here. Anyone got a tooth file?
UPDATE: I Smoochied myself. Now I feel dirty, but in a totally good, healthy way.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Awww. I'm sorry its lonely there. Just keep putting yourself out there, not in the valtrex-kind of way. You will find your place soon. You are a creative, fun, zesty writer and one lucky agency will get you. I'm still bitter I don't get you on a regular basis.
I didn't think I could be zesty without being a poster girl for valtrex. Thank you for a compliment (?) I've never heard before, love.
I love Smoochies. You're so lucky you have one closeby.
I agree w/ cherie, you are very zesty. Hang in there!
Post a Comment