Sea change

Ow. I barely - just barely dragged myself out of bed this morning. Urk. I feel like dog poo someone left on the train tracks for the overnight freight to squish.

If we weren't so immensely short-handed, I wouldn't even be here today.

My boss was here when I finally staggered in an hour late, answering phones. I apologized for being late, we went over the shit-ton of stuff I had to do, and he took one of the major things for himself. Yay! Sympathetic bosses rock.

The shade of green

Now, see, *that* is why I garden. There's no flower that quite matches the color of fresh spring lettuce, the richness of the green leaves, the taste and crunch flavored with the slick of olive oil and the tang of vinegar.

That and the little voice in the back of my head that's now shouting: "See? *My* bag of lettuce is better than *your* bag of lettuce. So there!" So discerning, my inner 7-year old.

---

Also, interrupting me while I'm helping the doctor who interrupted my lunch?

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!

Thanks,
Your Overworked Support Desk Person

Today's list of stuff with which Misha has been distracting herself

Oh! Oh! Sam Vimes has started the sequel to Stealing Harry! The first chapter of Laocoon's Children is up! *happy dance*

Some beautiful, beautiful ink sketches of a model who could be Hermione.

An hilarious dialogue from usenet wherein a dog-owner bemoans her pets' encounter with an elk carcass. I shall have to read this again at home where the hysterical cackling won't disturb the coworkers.

Everyone and their sister has linked to Troy in 15 minutes. Try Van Helsing in 15 minutes or Hidalgo in 15 minutes! More giggles!

( And a smattering of quizzes below the cut )

I am neither sardine nor lemming - whee!

Home now. I had to stay late to make up for my late entry, and then my bus home was entirely full. Packed like sardines! At six in the evening!

Instead I walked down to the UVillage and splurged on pizza (mmm...deep dish spinach...mmm) and *then* the bus home. Which was much less full and I took the opportunity to call Mom.

She's packing, Dad's working a convention in Las Vegas until Friday and they close on Monday. Eep! for them. And Dad still doesn't have a firm contract. Oi.

In other news, I seem to be attempting to gain the title of Chief Stroppy Bitch on WIKTT. I've called two people on stupid shit today - one was attempting to define flames and con-crit - 'if it's useful, it's con-crit'. Sorry, kiddo - personal attack=flame. Nothing else. The other was responding to someone who'd complained about the cliche of Severus getting pretty much constant Cruicatus, and holding the Sybil's Oracle as proof of concept. Er - no. One fic does not a cliche redeem.

Next!