It really is.
I can’t make this stuff up.
Like, when I drive up and park my car in the blessed, locked, covered parking garage, but can’t get out the door because of the homeless guy. Or girl. I couldn’t tell.
That’s a person rolled up in there. It’s kind of sad, but still blogworthy for the fact it’s not unusual. Not. At. All.
(Remember this one in April ?, sleeping soundly at the back door)
I send e-mails to Laura-like this
See that? Who knew I could be so productive.
We go out to lunch-
and then out to dinner-
For a cheese plate
Occasionally I am actually working in the office.
Before-when you could see me working
After, when they put up the wall so
you couldn’t see me napping I wouldn’t be distracting by people walking by.
I wear socks with my sandals because, for about the first 10 months of being in our new building, the heat was broken. So our office sported this kind of look.
We celebrate holidays-
I decorate for other holidays
(There’s work going on in there, really)
After all that, I go home, because keeping up this mad pace is exhausting. And this isn’t even the half of it.
It’s all in a day’s work.