The Work Could Literally Kill Me

At least I've managed to avoid the dangerous, deadly jobs like:

* coal miner
* Green Beret
* tyrannical leader on the eve of a coup
* deli counter
* child care worker
* anything retail
* bullet quality assurance tester

Instead I push massive amounts of paper around my desk from the wee hours of the morning (11am) until late, late at night (6pm, hmm sometimes 4pm). The paper starts in pretty, colourful files on the left side of my laptop. Then I cautiously move one or two to the right of the laptop. If the paper is sharp, I'll slice a sheet across the tops of my fingertips until I cry. That sheet will get tossed into the shredder. Once I've dealt with the information on the paper lacking a killer instinct, it'll be returned to the file. That file with the completed work... is SPECIAL!

I dance like a paper cut injured loon around the room with the completed work. It's so rare! So done! My professional career is made whole!

Then I have a cup of tea (PG Tips, 3 sugars, stirred counter-clockwise). Maybe I'll look at cat videos.

After my recuperative break, it's back to the files on the left side of the laptop. Repeat the papercuts, the completions, the dancing, the tea, the cat video watching.

Finally, all the files are located on the right of the laptop and this signals the end of my professional work day.

Phew! Exhausting!

(Warning: I is plumper than this but I don't like to brag. Oh plumpity plumpness!)

There is always a Beginning

Awesome.

Beginnings mean a start, a new and fresh story to tell and share with innumerable complete and utter strangers. 

This is mine and it's not bad. In fact, it could be more worser.

Today I planned to:

* finish a fucking huge pile of work. There it is: sitting in front of me, begging me to hurry up and take my thumbs out of my plumb ass and get started. Instead, I headed to the internet and started a blog.

* clean my tiny, stinky apartment. There it is: as malodorous and messy as yesterday. And the day before that, truth be pulled reluctantly from me. 

* exercise: core training to be exact. It says so in my sparkpeople schedule of cardio and strength training for Thursday. But I was grabbed on my way to the balance ball and forced to nap by a pair of miscreant pillows! Not my fault!

* finish a fucking huge pile of work... oh, I typed that already. Poo. That was the most important part of my day.  

But, dear readers, could I claim that It Could Be More Worser? 

Pretty easy, actually. But I won't dwell on my past career in Retail Hell. Or the Pure Hate I feel for certain people in my family (Hi Absent Daddy!). Or my pathetic lack of a sex life. 

Although the odds are, I will. I will dwell in horrible, technocolour detail that will make any party animal socialite head to a far away cave and live like a hermit. Should be fun.