We’re expanding our offices here at work (where I’m updating from today. hi.), and my head is pounding. My office, luckily, is next to the space where they’re using cement nailguns and other noisy tools to put down metal strips. They stapled a sheet of black plastic across the gaping doorway which, you know, really does a heck of a job cutting the noise level. Not. Now someone’s back there hacking up a lung, and it’s not the sort of environment conducive to my working hard.

Actually, I have done some work this morning; I paid about fifteen bills, updated an ultra-ugly excel spreadsheet (which I did not design, thankyouverymuch. my excel spreadsheets are visions of loveliness), listened to Fred and a co-worker discuss what the bloody, gross-looking thing on the back of the toilet is, checked out the bloody, gross-looking thing for myself, and had a breakfast of Raisin Nut Bran. I think the bloody, gross-looking thing is a bloody booger, personally, but the co-worker prefers to think it’s from the feces family. None of us have bothered to wipe it off, you’ll note. (It’s not on the seat, it’s on the side of the tank by the flushing handle) All I know is that I was not responsible for it’s existence.