My friend S. is having a day...
The kind of day at the end of which you think that you must have died sometime during the night before and this is your version of hell. It is as if each and every MoRon on the face of the Earth, spored, and the resulting triple to quadruple mass of MoRons showed up at her place of work. Her IM comments made me snarf my beverage:
S.: and then SR called on her way home at 4 p.m. - and she was at a mother's day event for three hours today - and rattled off about 50 more to dos...
S.: quitting......
t'pon: no. i won't let you do it. what would you do?
S.: t'pon - hauling garbage would give me more pleasure.
S.: at least people appreciate it.
S.: and, if your trash isn't out by the time my truck rolls by, you are out of luck.
There you are my dear S., now you are immortal.
Side Bar:
I swear to GAWD that if my next door neighbors don't stop letting their ratty little mop dog crap in my yard without picking it up... well, I may let my 200lbs of dog have a new squeaky toy.
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