Holy Holiday, Batman! Yeesh, it's been a long time since I've posted. But never fear, my virtual amigos, I haven't forgotten about you. I've spent the past several weeks doing last minute Christmas shopping and enjoying some quality unplugged downtime with psycho dog, kitty meow, and half of my family. Alas, I'm back in the coal mines and I have plenty of fuel for my blog fire.
Being back at work means two things to me: 1) I have to endure ridiculously sad looks from my dog when I crate her before leaving for work and 2) I have to start dealing with office supplies again. Now, after some time, I have regretfully become accustomed to enduring said puppy dog eyes, but the same ease has not come when faced with the latter. As was evidenced today. By my wild flinging of whiteout. All over my pants. My. Black. Pants. Awesome. I love work. For good measure today, I even threw in a nosebleed this morning when I was out of my office issue tissues, and a little something I like to call eating-shit-on-the-mail room-floor-because-my-heels-are-slippery-from-the-snow. Cool. I love Mondays.
Despite these things, and in spite of the mountain of email I had after being out for almost two weeks (what part of Out-of-Office auto reply don't you people understand?!), I'm in a pretty good mood today. Which is why I am taking the leisure time (take that, deadlines!) to discuss being paranoid. Now I don't mean being paranoid in the strict psychological sense of having a mental disorder. No, no. What I'm referring to are those little moments when you're walking down the sidewalk with one person behind you and you wonder if something is stuck to your butt. Or when you're driving home on the highway and someone takes the same two exits as you and you start to wonder if they're following you. Or when someone you're talking to wipes their nose and you suddenly think you must have VBs (visible boogers, for those of you not in the know) so you start wiping yours too. Or when you're in the bathroom and you feel like everyone can hear you breathing (newsflash - they CAN!). For some reason, this happens to me all the time. Seriously. Anytime someone looks at me, I wonder what's wrong with me. And you know you do it too. Just think about it. Or maybe not, because then you'll be paranoid about being paranoid. Gah.
Maybe I just think this way because I'm prone to accidents and random embarrassment. If I think there's something on my face, there's a fair chance I have a pen mustache. Because I'm five and I don't play well with ink. Just sayin'. Who knows man. And if you just tripped over something and you're all alone, yes, someone somewhere saw you. And laughed.
And it may have been me.
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