Friday, December 01, 2006

I'm not a very good blogger

When I was a young girl I kept a journal. I'd write in it so infrequently that I sounded like a completely different person with each entry. Oh what I wouldn't give to read any of that right now. I cringe at the thought of any of those entries coming to light. I remember gushing over boys that wouldn't give me the time of day. Of course, those were the easiest ones to 'like' since there was no chance really of anything ever happening.

I'm feeling the need recently to make a list of everything I need to get done. I guess I'll feel more organized that way and its always an accomplishment to mark something off a list. On the other hand, I worry the list would be overwhelming and I'd just shut down.

Friday afternoons at the office are hard. Friday mornings are fun, full of Friday excitement, talk of weekend plans, 'its been a long week' laughter and conversation. Friday afternoons are quiet. Its like some unwritten rule that we should all retreat to our little cubbies to stare at our clocks ticking away. Oh, we venture out on occasion, come up for air. Share a laugh, pick up a print job. In the event that Friday afternoon is not quiet, its completely insane and there's no time to even go use the restroom. The slow ones are the worst.

The other day a small child told me that he hated me. Not my own and not the child of anyone I know well. I was rather shocked by it. We were playing a game and I hurt his chances at winning with my action. I didn't say anything to the parents but I wonder if I should have? After thinking about it for a while I decided I would want to know if my son behaved this way.

I can always tell when the plant people have been in the office watering. It smells of gas, and I don't mean the kind you put in your automobile.

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