I try not to disappear when something unpleasant is afoot, because I know y'all worry, but sometimes you should totally worry, because my new job is trying to kill me. My theory is actually that whatever badness has recently ruined my lower left quadrant is THE BEGINNING OF THE END in the form of my body rejecting the positivity and rampant civility. To wit:
* I did something easy and straightforward a few days ago, something that is absolutely part of my job and kind of why I get paid to do it, and came in the next morning to a hand-drawn thank-you card taped to my cubicle.
* The artist behind said card has been extra-super-nice in training me, as has one key other person, and yesterday? Geez, y'all, it's like I don't even know who I am anymore. I can barely even say it: yesterday I took them both jars of homemade preserves and made hand-drawn labels featuring both rhyming AND an office-related pun. I texted a photo of the adorable little jars to Token Guy Friend, with the caption "I don't see a bright light, so I guess hell is The South, cicadas, and a series of wardrobe malfunctions? Can't say I'm surprised."
* I finally bit the bullet and hit Goodwill, after a particularly shameful incident involving grabbing the wrong pants, thinking I was bloated and wearing 12s, and finding out that in instead I had lost enough weight to close a pair of 8s and was the public face of cameltoe all day Tuesday. I should probably make the whole office an "I'm sorry" card about that...what rhymes with vulva? Anyway, so yeah I voluntarily went clothes-shopping yesterday and am somehow now the owner of someone's rich mom's wardrobe. Because I was mostly looking for a) businesswear, b) forgiving waistbands/shirts that can hide an early pregnancy or impending internal rupture, and c) nothing that would violate a) or show The Jew Tattoo (there is not an official tattoo policy at my new workplace, and in fact the lady in charge has a very girly, artsy tattoo that is visible most days, but as a temp who is hoping to end up sticking around I have decided to keep my not-so-girly, often-mistaken-for-offensive upper-arm ink under wraps, especially given that the average age in the office is AARP material). So yeah, HELLO LADY REPUBLICAN! The great thing about Goodwill is that when you live in an affluent area, you can spend less than seventy bucks and end up with five pairs of pants and seven shirts that are all Ann Taylor Loft, Polo by Ralph Lauren, Land's End, and the like. Plus a few pairs of shorts and a belt for various children and two Very Pretty Tops that totally show the Jew Tattoo in case you ever actually go anywhere other than work. So yeah...I am stylishly dressed in clothes that fit: third horse of the Apocalypse, pooping on the lawn.
* Yesterday there was a celebratory free lunch at the office, and my incredibly nice co-workers went out of their way to make sure there were GF options for me. They were super-proud of themselves, and the food smelled delicious, so I strayed from the liquid diet I've been keeping to and OH MY GOD, YEP, DYING. I crashed last night before eleven and now I have to go get dressed for work. ONWARD!
* How are all of YOU?