I spent most of Monday under my office desk, rocking back & forth in fetal position waiting for the e-mail that would force me to report to my director's office where I would be tortured and put under hot lights. Guess what? Never happened. In fact I accidently crossed paths with the asst. director and she smiled & said, "Hey! How ya doin?" What the....? Then I realized that although I made a mistake I wasn't in trouble and Igor (my supervisor) was making the usual crap storm out of nothing again. Why do I let her get to me? Is it the bulging eyes? The half of eyebrow? The modified mullet? The way she drags one leg? I don't know.
On the brighter side of our destroyed city is that the weather is awesome, I slept great last night and my stomach is accepting solid foods again.
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