|I know, I know, but I keep running out of day...
||[Nov. 30th, 2010|12:48 pm]
Besides, most of the things I've been working on writing lately are depressing. So, instead, I'll feed you this: |
Seriously, Salmonella in organic chocolate. Is nothing safe? The answer, my children is...no. The good news is, there is nothing you can do about it. Because it’s everywhere. Really. So, quit worrying about it. Because worrying won’t help. You could devote your life to re-working our entire food safety inspection system. But that might just slow it down. A little. Speaking of which – if you bought ground beef at the Safeway in Kensington recently, watch out for pieces of plastic and other pen parts, ‘cause guess what fell in the grinder?
This made me cry for several reasons. #1. For feeling sorry for myself, when really, my situation is nowhere near as miserable and dire as these folks. #2. For the misery and heartache these people endured. It was HARD. #3. Because there are good people in the world. Really good people, who do good because...they can. #4. Because if I had one wish in the world it would be to wish that for every a-hole out there, there were two people this good and kind. #5. Because it’s a futile wish.
After those last two, this just made me laugh and laugh and laugh. I don’t know if it’s actually funny, or I’m just desperate.
“Sorry, I can’t make that time. As I said, my calendar is a little difficult this week.” Yes, you told me that yesterday. What I thought you meant by that was “I don’t have a lot of time slots” which is what appeared to be true. So I picked one of the few empty ones. But apparently you meant “my online calendar has no correlation to my actual booked and free time slots”. No offense, chickie, but that would have saved me the time of prowling through your entire week, looking for the elusive free time slot. Just so that you could reply with your ACTUAL free time slot on that day. This crap UNGLUES me.
This also made me laugh. Because secretly I want to leave notes like this...EVERYWHERE.
As it is, this week, I already took a handful of printer cover sheets to a colleague and tossed them on his desk with a “and whose job is it, exactly, to take care of these?” He had the grace to look abashed and there hasn’t been another one left behind.
But seriously, when you find me dead in the middle of the road, about a car length in front of my own car, my car door open and the car running...it’s because I picked the wrong person to run up to, waving a piece of trash and screaming “who the hell do you think is going to pick this up? Your MOM?”