Omigod, omigod, omigod.
So the other day? When I told my bosses that I would remain at this job until next Wednesday? Was I delusional or something? Perhaps drunk? Because this? This is kind of sort of VERY PAINFUL AND I AM SERIOUSLY CONSIDERING POKING MY OWN EYES OUT WITH A PEN BECAUSE GOING TO THE HOSPITAL WOULD AT LEAST GIVE ME SOMETHING TO DO.
There’s nothing worse than mentally checking out of a place but physically being unable to do so. I’m sitting here, feeling like I’m going to explode and every minute seems like an eternity and WHY HAS IT BEEN 4PM FOR FIVE HOURS NOW. Also, DEAR INTERNET, I HAVE OFFICIALLY REACHED THE END OF YOU. PLEASE DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT. LOVE, CLINK.
I’m eyeing my book (The Emperor’s Children, Claire Messud, highly recommended), which is peeking out of my purse and I actually just contemplated going to the bathroom, sitting in a stall and READING IT.
Hi, I’m Clink and I’ve lost it.
I’ve written emails to everyone I know. And, unfortunately for me, everyone I know is of the employed variety which, note to self, find some friends who have nothing to do all day but entertain you.
If you have a blog, I’ve probably refreshed it about five times (why are you too cool to update? WHY?), read some of your archives (aww, you so funny and smart and witty – why don’t you write something new that is equally funny and smart and witty?) and then clicked on every single one of your links in hopes of finding something new and funny and smart and witty and, most important of all, PREVIOUSLY UNREAD BY ME.
I think that if they decide at the pearly gates that I’m not worthy, they’re going to banish me to my own personal hell: stuck for all of eternity at a computer with NOTHING TO DO and NOTHING NEW TO READ and NO PIZZA.
Except, right now, the pizza thing isn’t a problem. So I’m going to run to the pizza place and take advantage of that. What? I need to do something to cancel out all the exercising I’ve been doing.
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