The Weatherman Says Fair

When I left for work this morning, a thick and slushy snowfall was rapidly coating everything in sight. Chagrined that I forgot to park my car in the garage last night, I scraped off the soupy sludge of frozen ice and water before starting my 15 mile journey to work. Not caring the exact time I reached my desk, I decided to stop at Starbucks for caffinated fortification in the form of a vanilla soy latte.

Once I arrived at work, I wasn't 10 steps past my car when my work cell phone popped out of my pocket and skidded across the wet pavement. My phone is dead. It's not dead-dead, but rather...zombie dead. It's sort of alive, but really not. It can do outgoing calls and incoming calls, but it won't ring and I can't say anything into it nor can I hear anything out of it. I spent all morning trying to fix it to no avail. I will be without a work cell until sometime late next week. And because my phone was dead, I didn't receive the call about a punctured oil pan in a truck "barfing" oil everywhere. On the bright side, I gave myself a lovely case of spreadsheet hypnosis and a case of paranoid dejection. I also went to Arby's with the admins and even that had a dark shadow cast over it - with personal problems abound and a sandwich that was subpar. Even the tea wasn't that great.

So sometime around 6, I left work...it's stopped slushing out but it's quite colder. I can't decide if I want to drive to my parents house tonight or wallow in ennui and give it a whirl tomorrow morning. Either way, there will be ennui involved.

And curly hair as I've decided to roll it all up on a whim. I want old school hair - with the wave in the bangs and everything. Everything old is new again, you know.

Speaking of old, I hit the quarter century sometime within the next 100 hours. Here's to another quarter century of holding it down.