Thursday Rocks

I love Thursday. Thursday is the day after my deadline for the newsletter, it’s lunch with Shannon day (and I have presents for her) and it’s Amazing Race (or Survivor) night. It’s second only to Friday in fabulousness. Friday will always be the best day of the week because, well, it’s the last day. Doy!

I’m very much awake today but for some reason I’m not very energetic. I popped awake before the alarm and was alert and fully functional almost immediately but I just couldn’t work up a good head of steam on the elliptical. I did my 35 minutes and I did my intervals but they just weren’t as high-speed or intense as usual. They were still sweaty. Feh.

Michael stuck around and did 45 minutes but he can bite me. I’m also pretty sure he ripped a stinky in the middle of the workout and I pretty much wanted to punch him. If it wasn’t him then it was the skinny little woman next to me and I just can’t believe that could have come out of her. If he ever bothered to read this he’d kill me. But he doesn’t, so I’m not worried. Heh.

So I’ve already whipped off a grumbling e-mail to a vendor about how crummy our bookstore images look, requested changes to a few pages, posted some new items, drank two cups of coffee and had two mini-meetings. It’s only 9:15. Whoohoo!

Oooh, which reminds me! I had my annual review Tuesday and it was really, really good. Very affirming, almost to the point of flattering. And because managers here are required to tell us where we have room for improvement and how to do even better next year, my manager dug deep in his mind to come up with something to suggest I work on.

Did you know that I curse too much? AHAHAHAHAHAHA! It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. My manager is one of the most mild-mannered, self-deprecating people I’ve ever known and it absolutely kills him to say anything critical to anyone. In the time it took him to work up to telling me to tone down my language, I’d almost become convinced he was going to tell me something really awful. If this is the only area of my work that needs improvement–I can live with that.

I think he was afraid I’d be all freaked out and self-conscious. Turkey, please. I have a foul mouth. This is not news. And he is not the first person in a professional setting to mention this to me, by the way. I am aware. He took it one further though. He actually suggested that “hell” and “damn” are probably okay, but beyond that, not so much. AHAHAHAHA!

If I ever get sick of working in an office, I should probably consider construction or roadwork. I’ll change my name to Becky.