I'm going to be honest. I was thisclose to calling it in today.
My alarm clock (I'm openly hostile to my alarm clock. The sound of an alarm clock alone is enough to put me in a foul mood. And the other day it woke me up to the sounds of Miley Cyrus' Party in the USA. Not OK) interrupted a perfectly nice dream. I wanted to know how it would end. Meryl Streep was in my dream and it was like a quest. Meryl came to me early in the dream asking me to make sure that I got Stanley Tucci out of some kind of institution without making any notes in the system. So there was a lot of thinking required, and some espionage. And I thought that I had figured it out so I was going to Meryl to tell her and I saw her at the other end of the room...and my alarm clock went off. Now I will never know how it all turns out. But I bet Meryl was amazing.
I hate alarm clocks. Who invented it? Terrible idea. And once again, its Monday. And I wasn't ready to wake up. The night went by way too quickly.
So aside from the fact that I am now dreaming about Meryl Streep, I'm feeling all kinds of horrible this morning. I'm fairly certain that whatever disease John has, he coughed it all over me last week and I'm now in the early stages of some kind of mutated death grip. Should be fun.
I just needed someone to validate my need to skip out on work. So I turned around and casually mentioned that I didn't want to go to work today. And The Boyfriend wisely concurred. So I say "Let's just not go to work" hoping that he will agree to that as well. But for whatever reason The Boyfriend's work ethic kicked in at the break of dawn (not even, the sun was most definitely not up) and he said that he had to go to work.
And then the guilt set in. There really is nothing like guilt to motivate is there? Why do we go to the gym? Guilt over that extra cookie or slice of cake we had. Why do we go to our parents for dinner? Guilt that we haven't seen them in a while (or we need to do laundry). Why did I go to work this morning? Guilt.
Guilt that everyone else would be here and they would think I was abandoning them. Guilt because even though it sucks balls, I still do have a job. Guilt that I don't have to worry about paying my rent.
However, now that I am at work, the guilt has somewhat subsided and I'm once again just plain annoyed. I'm hoping for some kind of cataclysmic event that will shut my office down, at least for the rest of the day so that I can go home and watch Ellen. If it would make you feel better I could say that I will go to the gym and watch Ellen (but really, that would be a lie and then you would feel let down and I would feel more guilty). I'm thinking that with the way the weather has been of late, a good old fashioned power outage wouldn't be too much of a stretch.
I have also just been reminded that the Big Wigs are coming in today (anyone know the origin of that expression? I would look it up but that seems like a lot of work, and I'm totally opposed to any kind of working today) which means that we will be observed and shown off in an attempt to illustrate that we are all happy, productive members of a cohesive team working towards a common goal. In short, we will lie. Together. As a team. I suppose that its a start.
I hate these days though, the ones where the higher ups come to visit. They are so dishonest. Everyone laughs a little harder at bad jokes. There are more handshakes, most of them so limp its a wonder their owners made it as far as they have (I'm thinking we're running out of hand sanitizer today). I'm going to have to smile and pretend I care that Jim or Fred or Harry is here to see what we're doing. I'm going to have to listen to John or Turd explain what my role is while Turd struggles to pronounce my name correctly. Oh God, I'm going to have to listen to them mispronounce my name all day. You're right- I'm assuming that they care what it is.
I should have just called it in. I could still be in bed.
I am guessing that the term "Big Wig" originated somewhere in the 18th century, when ornate, powdered wigs were the fashion rage, and the most elite and higher-ranking folks wore larger, more elegantly coiffed hairpieces than the common cobblers-- the confused cubicle-dwellers of the time.
ReplyDeleteBut I could just be making that up. Sounds good, though, doesn't it?
Also-- dreaming of Meryl Streep & Stanley Tucci? I want your brain.
It sounds really good. I'm going to go ahead and decide that that is exactly what happened.
ReplyDeleteMeryl Streep because I love her. And Stanley Tucci...partly because they seem to work together somewhat often and I was watching Dexter before bed and there was a guy named Tucci.
During the reign of Louis XIV, wigs were virtually obligatory for all European nobility and 'persons of quality'.
ReplyDeleteAt that time they were known in England as periwigs, which was shortened to 'wig' by around 1675.
Wigs were expensive to purchase and keep in good condition, and were generally worn only by the powerful and wealthy. Since ostentation was fashionable in Bourbon France, over time the wigs became bigger and fancier, often to the point of absurdity (and even requiring scaffolding!). The term 'big-wig' for an important person came into being around this time, and has continued to be used.
So Mr Apron was more or less right.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad that someone else underook this task. Thanks! Now we've all learned something new!
God, I love being right without bothering to actually research shit.
ReplyDeletePhew!