Where have I been, Reader??! Certainly not here, typing up nonsense. No sirree. I thought for a moment I'd just up and quit on myself, like that one time in my life when I was a vegetarian for something like four years, and then one day I just up and ate a hamburger, and that was the end of that. No warning, just out of the blue.
I thought this was going to be like that. But here I am, so it's not quite like that. This week, anyway.
It has been a fucked up February, Reader. Effed. Right On. Up.
I can't even get into it all, because this would be a three-days-to-read post, but let's just say that work made me cry because some of them are mean, then I got sick in my bosses million-dollar house on Superbowl Sunday, then I went to New York and stomped around that sloshy city without my arthritis pain-relieving medicine because I forgot it at home, so it was a very difficult time on my poor old broken-a-long-time-ago footsies, and in the most recent debacle, last Tuesday night on my way home after a very long night at Tiny Town, I met My Mister and another couple for dinner at our favorite Mexican place, and my car window got busted out and my work laptop and bag was stolen right out of the back, along with my notebook with all my notes from the New York trip, and all my archived emails. My Mister told me to look at it as a fresh start.
Whew, that was a long run-on sentence that kinda reminds me of this run-on month. And we've still got a week to go before this month is over, so who knows what the fuck is still to come. I'd get all cocky and say, "Bring it, Rest of the Month!" like I'm a badass and not afraid, but at this point it would come out sort of with a whimper, because I am a little bit afraid about what could happen next.
I figure I'll public fart and split my pants wide open during a presentation. Because why not.
So that's where I've been, kinda trying to hide a little bit and let this month stop trying to notice me. Stop looking at me, February! Nothing to see here, move along to some other victim!