Remember a couple of weeks ago when I was complaining about having to sit in training all day? I know it's difficult to remember everything I complain about, but try and keep up, would you? Anyway, there were several employees from some of our satellite offices who came in so we could tell them how to do stuff (I can't tell you what stuff, because it's very secret and important . . . OK, no it's not, but it IS very boring so really I'm doing you a favor) and today they sent us a basket full of Cheryl & Company cookies, which is why I have a Blondie Bar sitting in my desk drawer right now because I told myself that if I was good, I can eat it this afternoon. I don't know why. I like to make myself live by arbitrary rules sometimes. Whatever, it gives me something to do.
It's funny how a delivery of food can change the entire atmosphere of the office. I'm not immune. Here I was, sitting in a Thursday slump at my desk, when my boss waltzes in with a basket full of cookies! Cookies! Cookies make everything better. I bet they cure all sorts of diseases (except diabetes), only doctors don't want us to know that because then we'd stop going to see them and if I've learned anything from Grey's Anatomy, it is that doctors are lonely, sad, whiny creatures who only want to be loved. Sometimes they want to be loved in storage closets, sometimes in the on-call room, SOMETIMES even in the stairwells or the elevator. Don't judge.
Last night, I got in bed with a book, set it aside, and turned on the TV, but I had some time to kill since Futurama hadn't started yet. LUCKILY, the US Open was on. Guess who was playing. Guess. Go on. I'll wait. OK, that's enough waiting. It was Andy Roddick. And Roger Federer. So hot right now. I don't know much (anything) about tennis, except that Federer is fun to say and I really like the sound the ball makes when they hit it. Heidi and I bought tennis rackets in an effort to learn how to play, but it turns out tennis is sort of hard so we gave up. Maybe we'll try again since the weather will soon not make me want to die every time I go outside.
I don't know why, but I have been having really weird, vivid dreams lately. Last night, I actually woke up as I was in the middle of one and while I was waking up, I flung the comforter off of the bed. No big deal, right, but the comforter had felt heavier than normal and that's because Phoebe had been lying on top of it and I accidentally threw her off of the bed with the comforter. I'd feel bad, but she bit me pretty hard last night and ALL I WAS TRYING TO DO was pet her. She really is pure evil.
Oh, you guys. I went running again last night. By myself. In the dark. Wearing my mp3 player. Heh. Not my smartest move, for a couple reasons. One, my legs hurt so much today that every time I walk down stairs, I have to stop myself from going, "ow . . . ow . . . ow," and so on. Two, I probably would have been pretty easy to kidnap last night on account of the sore legs and also I wasn't running very fast oh, and also, I had The Fratellis blasting at full volume in my ears. I promise to stop talking about running once it gets easier and I'm not sore all the time. Until then, at least it gives me something to complain about and I do love complaining ever so much (see above).
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