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Charlie Hatton
Brookline, MA

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Howdy, friendly reading person!
I'm on a bit of a hiatus right now, but only to work on other projects -- one incredibly exciting example being the newly-released kids' science book series Things That Make You Go Yuck!
If you're a science and/or silliness fan, give it a gander! See you soon!

That’s It — Next Week I’m Sleeping Through the Whole Damned Thing

Jeez, what a day. Mondays are never a big bucket of ‘whee‘, but this one was particularly assy. And — appropriately enough — I’m pooped. I don’t know how much I’ve got left in me tonight. But I can still do a bit of whining.

(Seriously, I could bitch in my sleep. No problem. Bitch and drool, drool and bitch. Do what you’re best at, right?)

Anyway, today was a pain in the ass from start to finish. Or near-finish, anyway. It’s not over yet, I suppose, so things could always turn up. Hell, anything could happen. More likely, I’ll fall down the damned stairs, or pull a muscle getting into bed, or get the wrong end of the dog when I try to scratch her behind the ears.

(Look, it’s happened before. Three of the fingers on my left hand will never be clean again. ‘Nuff said.)

I don’t know what the weather was like today where you are. But around here, the day started depressingly and just got miserabler and miserabler.

(Try saying that three times fast.)

It was gray, then drizzly, and then downright wet and pissy. It didn’t help that we had about seventeen minutes of damned daylight around here — whose friggin’ idea was this ‘Daylight Savings Time’ bullshit, anyway? Sure, we get an ‘extra’ hour of sleep — on Sunday, like we’re not getting up at the crack of noon anyway — but at what cost? Sunset at four-freakin’-thirty? Fuck that, man.

I’m gonna boycott this whole ridiculous ball of shit. I’m setting my clocks forward again in protest. Actually, that’ll work out well. I can show up to all my meetings an hour early, wait for ten minutes tapping my foot while no one bothers to show up, and then I can go back to loafing. Er, working. Yes, definitely working. At my desk. With my eyes closed, and my head on my keyboard. Look, I think better when I snore, okay? Slobber on the keys spells P-R-O-D-U-C-T-I-V-E.

(Okay, it was supposed to spell ‘productivity’. But I got bored and cut it short. You get the idea.)

Anyway, speaking of meetings, I had five today. Five. Look, I just started my third week on this job. I don’t even know five frigging people yet. How the hell can I be in on five meetings? And small meetings, too. Not those big-group jobbies where I can paint pupils on my eyelids and pretend to be paying attention. No sir. I had to nod, and ask questions, and go over papers, and all sorts of other businessy bullshit. While I pretended to be paying attention, of course.

(Sure, I had to be awake. But it was still Monday. I’m not Superman, you know.)

If that weren’t bad enough — and it were; oh, it were — my last meeting lasted until six-thirty. First two weeks — out by five pm every day. First crappy, soggy day of the third week — six-thirty. What happened? Did my warranty run out? Is the honeymoon over? Since when is week three ‘You’re our bitch now‘ time?

And to top it off, I’ve got to present a development plan at a meeting in the morning. That’s nine in the morning, by the way. Or about three hours before decent, dawn-fearing folks should be awake and trying to function as normal members of society.

(Not that I have much chance of that at any time of day. But before ten in the morning? Um, no. I’ll be lucky to walk in there with pants on. Even luckier if they’re on my legs and covering my crotch. My ass is on it’s own. You can’t have everything.)

So, I’d better get the hell to bed. I may not make any damned sense at nine in the morning, but at least I can be well-rested. Which I’d better be, for this meeting. I tried drawing fake eyes on my lids once when I was giving a presentation. I slumped over and, um, renostrilated my boss with the pointer I was using. My, uh, old boss, that is. Poor guy looks like a moose from the left side now. Of course, he can pick up odors like a friggin’ basset hound. I still say he’s better off. He’s not so sure — when I told him that in the hospital, he just snorted. Like a moose, actually.

Yeah, maybe it’s best if I go to bed now. And stick to the laser pointer tomorrow. I think I’ve done enough nasal damage for one career. G’night!

Permalink  |  4 Comments

4 Responses to “That’s It — Next Week I’m Sleeping Through the Whole Damned Thing”

  1. Igor says:

    There is a way to solve these problems. Simply draw a bath. Get out your hair dryer. Plug it in. Get into the bath. Turn on the hair dryer. Drop it in to the bath with you. Problems solved! Right bubby?

  2. Psycho Dad says:

    “Poor guy looks like a moose from the left side now. Of course, he can pick up odors like a friggin’ basset hound.”That was funny as hell!

  3. Zoot says:

    A big bucket of whee! Laugh. I read this Tuesday night, which means your meeting is over. I hope no one got poked with anything, erm… at least not in an uncomfortable way. Yeah.

  4. Monkey says:

    Five meetings? Five meetings is NOTHING! Wait till they’ve got you coming in at 8, 6 meetings before lunch, one meeting OVER lunch, then two four hour ones in the afternoon. And a tele-conference at one in the morning because the overseas clients refuse to get out of bed at one in the morning. Oh the humanity.

    renostrilated. Now THAT’S a word.

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