He’s not the clinical kind of crazy, more so the consipiracy theory kind. He talks to me from the elevator closet, and I don’t understand a word he says. Each word is low and grumbles and the end of one runs right over the beginning of another, so that I have to wait for the very end of his sentece to put it all together. Often times I just give him an “I hear ya,” in agreement.
The TV in the office plays an old black and white movie with fuzzy lighting, and a woman wearing a black dress is smashing a man’s head in a piano lid.
I just remembered that at 10:00 last night, I woke up, went downstairs to turn off my crock pot, and ended up cracking open my leftovers from dinner and shoveling as many bites of shrimp primavera as I could in my mouth before going to bed. Where did that come from?
Why are chips in the lips of coffee cups so charming?
I never get upset if I see a cup has chipped or cracked somehow, in fact, I’m almost pleased. Why is that?
In an hour I have lunch with Mom and Garrett, and am looking forward to it SO much. My boss has been out of town all week, and while I enjoy the freedom of blogging during work, it has been an incredibly boring 5 days.
And this isn’t a happening of today, but I dyed my hair a lighter blonde. So far, I love it!