My blogs tend to be about the following things:
1. Ways I am a hobo.
2. Ways I am a spinster.
3. Things that happen on the bus.
4. Things that happen at work.
5. My snuggie.
6. Burritos.
If I were able to wear my snuggie to work and eat a burrito while I sell books, I could accomplish nearly all of these things in one day.
On Tuesday I really out did myself.
At about 3pm, as I was trying to leave, I realized my bag was locked in the office where they were conducting a group interview.
There was no way, after being awake since 3am, that I was waiting around an hour. So I knocked on the door.
"Sorry! But I need my bag."
Of course my boss had placed the bag in the furthest corner.
And when I say bag, I should clarify that it was a huge IKEA shopping bag. I hadn't been home in days, was towards the end of LL's wedding weekend and also house-sitting, and was carrying around the contents of my closet in an IKEA bag. I'm pretty sure an adult human being (like CPR!) could easily fit in the bag.
"Yeah, sorry I'm such a hobo!" I said as they shifted around the tiny office to hand me my hobo luggage. I later said they couldn't hire any of the prospectives because they should find out I'm a hobo after they are hired, not before. Kind of ruins the fun.
Speaking of house-sitting, I watched LL and KL's critters while they went to San Juan, WA. The two cats (Buttons and Ziggy) and dog (Madeline) always looked upon me distantly, but favorably, when I was just a visitor. But Buttons wanted nothing to do with me as her temporary owner. I was determined to make Buttons love me.
Buttons was determined to murder me.
Or at the very least, make me think she was capable of getting the butcher knife and stabbing me.
She does this thing in the middle of the night where she gets in the cupboards and leaps off her perch by the window, making it sound like someone is opening the door.
Cue Bry waking up several times convinced a crazy person was in the house.
She stopped snubbing me somewhere in the final day of my tenure as her fake owner, and even willingly got on the bed. However, I woke up from a nap (and her napping on top of me) with cat scratches right in between my cleavage.
So thank you Buttons for roughing up my chesties, for not actually murdering me, and making me grateful I don't have pets.
As I like to say, I'm only a cat, or a dolphin figurine collection, away from being a real spinster.
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