nose to the rolling stone

[constance]

I played hooky for a little while after lunch today. I went to eat with my office mate, and when we were finished, she said, "I don't feel like going back just yet. Want to go clothes shopping?" Well, I am easily led astray, is all; we spent the next half hour poking around clearance racks and I bought three shirts and a pair of pants I really didn't need, and now we are back and (mostly) working, and I feel better for having drifted off the map for a little while.

I'm a responsible person. I come to work early and leave late and believe it or not spend most of the time in between actually accomplishing things; in fact, I am accomplishing something right this minute in the form of a long report running. I am almost always where I should be, doing what is expected of me. And so times like this are doubly satisfying. Not only do I get half an hour of time where only one other person in the world knows where I am (and that person has an interest in Not Telling), but I get to be reminded that I am capable of this, capable of saying, "yeah, lets!" and slacking like the proverbial mofo and not feeling the least bit guilty or furtive about it. It is good for me.

:::

Today I went to a company meeting and was listening to the loud general talk that happens when you're settling into a meeting like this, and suddenly there was one of those lulls where the silence is going to be filled--you know it is--with someone saying the most embarrassing thing imaginable at the top of her voice. And sure enough, the VP of Operations' voice rang out: "K., do you spit or swallow?" There was a moment of stunned silence before the whole office just busted out laughing.

I leave you to decide what that conversation was about. But I will tell you that K., he is a swallower.

:::

Finally the news is back, and it is good. There is no active TB in our office. So I shan't need your kind offers of hankies scented with rosewater, unless you just really think I ought to have them anyway.

:::

ETA: If I hear Coldplay's "Speed of Sound" one more time today, I am going to summon my zombie minions to chew off Chris Martin's tongue.

Comments

[laurelwood.livejournal.com]

Whatever Murphy's Law that is about the silence being filled with someone saying something embarrassing loudly, well, all hail to it. It never fails to disappoint.

And yay! we are both TB-free! I am, however, dying by inches of a terrible rash on my side brought on by sitting around for too long in a chlorine-y bathing suit. Is that malady enough to qualify me for one of those much-written-about sanitoriums in Switzerland? And if so, would you like to accompany me as my attendant?

[tofty.livejournal.com]

May I please wear a nurse's uniform with one of those little turn-uppity hats? I mean, I'm with you regardless, but if I could dress like Florence Nightingale--and also push you round the sanatorium grounds in a canebacked Bath chair and glower threateningly at impetuous suitors who tire you out because those rashes can be so debilitating!--I would just be that much happier to do it.

"It is time for Madame's calamine treatment," I shall say sternly. "Should you like to return tomorrow, you will find our door open."

[laurelwood.livejournal.com]

:D :D :D Yes, tomorrow will find us all drunk on spiked lemonade, and you with your upturned nurse hat askew as one of my impetuous suitors brings you back from a wild and careening joyride 'round the lake in my canebacked Bath chair.