(no subject)

I am alive! I am at work. Both by the sheer skin of my teeth.

Hey look, Penny Arcade wants a piece of my Fire of the Crystal Elven Magesword action. I would prefer the Documentary About Q (character or letter! I care not which!), but then it's relatively evident that in a Penny Arcade situation I would be Tycho.

My temp was very good about not filing anything she didn't know the place for, but apparently she decided to create some sort of sadistic postal treasure-hunt for me. There were five separate piles of mail on and around my desk, with no visible rational sorting method. I just located two packages underneath the desk, while three more packages, some addressed to the very same people (including ME), were in the sorting bins behind the desk. It would be fun if the entire contents of my head weren't leaking out through my nose.

On the plus side, the thermal hoodies I ordered have arrived, as have the last of the Swaptree booty. I was hoping for lighter fluid and college handbooks, but you can't have everything.

(no subject)

BossBoss: How are you?
Sam: Super-medicated and hanging on by a thread.
BossBoss: That's gonna be the title of my memoirs.

The only reason I am here today is that THEY NEED ME, because this is the last day BossBoss will be here for a week as he's going to DC this evening and staying over for the Inauguration. Plus we're closed on Monday, because Martin Luther King Jr. was awesome.

I have spent most of the day coordinating the complicated tango of the conference rooms, which falls apart whenever I'm absent for two days because people sense that I am gone. Aware that I cannot throw things at them, they immediately lose their ability to read a calendar. The result of this is that every appointment they try to book is in conflict with a pre-existing appointment.

BUT my lighter fluid came, so my handwarmer's getting a test-run this afternoon. Hooray for fire.

(no subject)

I am home.

I'm also dead. I'm going to spend the next three days asleep, with intermittent wakefulness for tea, decongestants, and painkillers.

I get mildly sick fairly often, because my immune system hates me and all I stand for, but rarely do I get whammed this hard. I feel like mainlining OJ and then heavily sedating myself until it's over. Argh.