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Gracias, Senor Columbus!

Wow. That was some weekend, eh?

Thank the gods for that Columbus guy — and never mind that he didn’t know his East Indies from a hole in the ground. Or that the Vikings discovered North America. Or that somebody thought enough of Amerigo Vespucci to name the country after him, and all Columbus got was a sleepy little podunk town in Ohio. They gave Columbus the holiday, and that gives me a Monday off. You go, there, Magellan Light.

It was a good weekend for an extra resticle day, too. The wedding on Saturday took a lot out of me. It was fun, but exhausting — like a good long run, or a night of boogieing down, or sex in a Volkswagen, maybe. Here’s all you need to know about Saturday night: I took three pictures on my camera phone during the reception. One was of a peacock — really, a real, live peacock, up close and personal. The next was a full glass of Guinness. And the last was a woman wielding a knife. Now if that’s not a Saturday night party, people, then I don’t know what is. Maybe I should have rested today, too.

But no. I worked. Okay, okay — so, really, I drove to the office, snuck into the office down the hall, and took a nap in the new girl’s chair.

(What? It’s not like I can sleep at my desk, what with my officemate always tippy-tap-typing on his keyboard. Besides, I drool in my sleep — and lord knows there’s enough spittle on my keyboard already. Share the saliva, I always say.)

Of course, I didn’t nap all afternoon. I sat in a meeting and acted all surly, too. You know the guy who goes to meetings and folds his arms, and shakes his head sadly at every suggestion, and goes, ‘Pffffftttttttt‘ when you ask his opinion? Yeah, I’m practicing to be that guy. Right now, I’m that guy’s understudy. He does all that stuff, and if people still harass him, he looks at me with his ‘can you believe these people?‘ look. And then I throw my hands in that ‘I know, I know, but what can you do — killing them would be illegal‘ way, and we share a little giggle. Meetings are fun!

So, that’s one day of work down this week, and only three more to go. Three more days to ‘tsk‘ through meetings, and use the new girl’s dirty Post-Its for pillows.

Which is probably safer than using the new girl’s dirty pillows for Post-Its, come to think of it. I’m not sure I could talk her into that, for starters. And she’d probably wash all the writing off every day, too. Also, she’s sort of flat-chested; I wouldn’t be able to write very much without turning her over and using the back. And you always get ink all over your hands when you use the back. Icky.

Well, now that this has turned all weird and Doocy, I suppose I should probably call it a night. Gotta be well-rested and ready to defend myself at the office tomorrow. Ta.