Lucky me. I get the spend the next two weeks working out of our Hyde Park office. Sure, it's closer to home. However, the commute is about the same due to the convoluted route I drive. The office is old, creeky, and full of vermin. The clinicians are so fucking needy I'm supposed to let the receptionist know when I get in so she can make an overhead announcement. Yesterday I was asked to work 7-3 instead of my usual 8-4.
That's not happening.
When my sentence is up, I'm off for two weeks. Vacation? No. Moving, unpacking, doing yard work? Yes.
Top all that off with the case of the shits I got from drinking Coors Light, and you can probably guess the color of my mood ring these days.
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1 comment:
now what does that tell you about drinking shitty horse piss?
just say no.
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