Workshop

Work has been crazy this week. We're participating in the state's annual conference today, tomorrow, and over the weekend. So, naturally, everyone has to freak the fuck out for no good reason. Honestly? It's not as if I work in an industry where lives are at stake. If there's a teeny smudge on our display, it's not the end of the world.

Since I have the reputation for being the "creative one" in the office, I got stuck with the job of designing and assembling the 5 foot by 10 foot display space. For some reason, I thought it was only a two day job. Ha ha. Not even close. We can't set up anything in our designated area until after 5 today. Two days ago, the bitch I work with (and hate, can you tell?), was giving me her famous attitude about not having things done. I gave her attitude right back and told her that unless she had the tools I needed on hand, the job was going to wait. I wanted to tell her to pull a rubber mallet and a hammer out of her fucking ass. After that, I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and strangle her superiority complex to death.

Ah, but I stopped at being snarky lest I lose the job I enjoy.

In about 15 minutes, I'm leaving the office to drive across town to the conference itself and help out (for another cunt I don't like) with a workshop. All I really have to do is check people in and clean up after. But, in between those two tasks is three hours of boooorrrrriiiiiinnnggg. Maybe I'll work on that novel I'm supposed to almost be done with. Or, maybe I'll crochet a throw for my loveseat in the living room. I need to devise a plan to get the matching couch into my new apartment by the time I have my party....ugh...too much to do.