Dear monthly… bi-monthly… someday blog,
For that is what you have become, darling. Unceremoniously relegated to a mere e- page I pull out during times of boredom or stress, only to be exiled again for lengthy periods of time. Lady D once complained that she hadn’t blogged for a week because of workloads. Ha. I can’t even remember the last time I put fingertip to keyboard for personal gratification. It’s true what Gutterflower says; it’s damn near impossible to enjoy writing anymore, when it’s all you do as a day-job. Add to it a day job that permits you time to breathe only when you fall asleep in the wee hours for a wee time, and you stop recalling that you ever maintained a blog in the first place.
As you have by now gathered (and if you haven’t, then you are truly simple minded and I sympathize), I have been busy. Admit it… you missed me. Awww. You did? Get used to it.
I know RD did. He even sent me a wise word on the matter, bless him.
I’ve been up to so much lately that I’m starting to feel little Kali-ish. You know… many hands, perform miracles… that sort of thing. One of these days my clients are going to taste my toe jam as I lose all sense of propriety and kick their teeth well into the depths of their gizzards.
Pissed, you ask? Nay. What makes you say that? I love my clients… to the point of wanting to strangle them with over-enthusiastic hugs. I’m training people in the art of conflict resolution by moving them to intervene on my ‘talks’ with the client. One of the more memorable battles revolved around, of all things, a door. Now if you thought ‘revolving door’ and snickered at your own wit, then please leave this page now, for I have nothing more to say to you.
I will write on the door issue later. Or maybe I won’t. I’m undecided like that.
For now, let me bring you up to speed on what‘s been happening.
Let us begin with the fact that I am sick, and this time I mean LITERALLY. I have the mother of all sicknesses guest starring some rather vile mountains of grey-green phlegm. I’m SO sick that even the thought of said vile green phlegm can’t possibly make me feel sicker.
My sickness gives thanks to the new office we shifted to a week ago. I have to admit, I was hopping with excitement on the thought of shifting here, given that the new place has a supermarket, bank, gym, home-ware shop and ODEL in the building. Not to mention the orgasmic 360 degree view from the rooftop that gives me a sneek peek at Adam’s Peak on a clear day, a bookstore and food court soon to arrive. But I am now convinced it was all a part of the evil scheme to entice me to agree to the move. No one told me about the resident ocean of cement dust and noxious paint fumes inside a dark, depressing room sans ventilation. I have been suffering since day 1. So much so, that 75% of the employees have taken to wearing surgical masks to work, making us look like the Ragama hospital ward. For further authenticity, we’re coughing and wheezing in pain quite convincingly too.
My one source of comfort lies in the fact that my desk directly faces the men’s loo, which conveniently features a door that closes ever so slowly thanks to a hinge system that understands my perversions. I’m sure the dust and I will settle in quite well soon.
I have plenty more to write about, but neither my sinus problem nor the urgent need to be somewhere else allows me the luxury of time, so you’re gonna have to wait it out a bit more.
Await.
