Friday Cemetery Blogging

Wellllll...


I got home from drunk school just in time to catch the last half of the VP debate. I sat on the floor all through that so Jackson could massage my shoulders and those pesky little sinus pockets on the base of your skull that make you horribly dizzy when you stand up. (He's a nice person. Most of the time. )


So, then I managed to regain my feet long enough to make it to my chair.


It was at that point that I realized the external drive with all the pictures is in my bedroom. And that's waaaaay over there. And I'm waaaaaay over here. And my dog doesn't fetch. And Jackson already rubbed my neck for like half an hour without complaint, so I'd feel guilty about asking him to go get it for me.


Is this not the most pathetic post ever?


Its been a busy week and a weird, weird day. First, my desk ripped a big hole in the knee of my pants this afternoon. It ticked me off, but not as much as it would have had I not had a pair of jeans in the truck that I'd planned to change into to teach tonight. Jeans for the afternoon! Yay!


Then Joe Damien, a new wife-beater on my caseload showed up for his appointment. He has long flowing hair and a compact, muscular little body and a Romanesque nose and he thinks he is so very hot. He's doing everything he is supposed to, except for attending the Batterers Intervention program. The little jerk and I had a Come-to-Jeezus meeting last month about this. His first breath this month was spent informing me of his appointment time for the group meetings.


We concluded our business as quickly as possible because the little skeezoid makes my skin crawl. I handed him his next appointment card and motioned him towards the door, even as I turned toward my keyboard, intending to hurry him along.


He stood just inside my door while he stuffed the card into his wallet. As he did so, he said, "Can I ask you a favor?" I didn't even bother to look at him. "What is it?" I growled.


He cocked at finger at me like he was pointing a gun, clucked his tongue and said, "Will you promise me to have a really great day?"


I just stared at him. It was like an encounter with Disco Stu. I still cannot believe he actually did the finger-gun thing. Gah!


The next appointment on my calendar?


Bondage Roger.


Roger's first words on entering my office? I kid you not - he gave me a big goofy grin and said "They're not working you too hard, now, are they?" Geeze. Was the whole disco inferno vibe related to the fluorescent tubes in my ceiling doing a strobe light impression? Maybe so. Maybe no.


I'm goin' to bed.