Cranky



I am not fit for human consumption. Clearly. I feel cranky and ready to fly off the handle at any moment. I can't tell if this is an almost-cold I am experiencing, or just general---what? Irritability? Dissatisfaction with life (the general human condition)? Frustration that time moves so fast and yet so slow? I have no idea.



My boss has taken pity on my worn-down state. Today when I called her to find out what was going on tomorrow, she told me I would basically spend the day as a glorified messenger girl. Sweet. I used to love how, in elementary school, I'd always finish my work before anyone else, and the teacher would send me on errands to the principal's office, or to the fifth grade wing, or to the outer hinterlands known as The Portables. I'd pretend the folded over note or large manila envelope was an important message from the Queen, and that I, her most loyal servant, was the only one trustworthy and wiley enough to get it over enemy lines. A smile and "Good morning" to the custodian was really the secret code that let me use the back stairwell unharmed. A wave and mouthed "Hey" to my best friend from first grade sitting in the front row of the classroom where I waited for Ms. F to write a reply was the signal that kept my identity secret.



Yes, I had an overactive imagination and way too much spare brain time. Still do, in fact.

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