My headache is a giant, evil stormcloud hanging over me like in the cartoons. Or maybe that's my mood. Technical difficulties bother me, especially when there's a human element. (In this case, "I want to return the email of the VP of retail, but the chart she sent me crashed my email account and also? I have no idea what it represents or what I'm supposed to do with it.") I have wrapped this problem up for tonight, but it took me roughly an hour and required spook's help, and Melanie's, and may yet require the help of more people before I'm done with it tomorrow.
I just want to eat a giant plate of cheesy fries, but I did that yesterday, and I'm broke.
Hmm. Yep, I sound like a petulant five-year-old. I'm gonna console myself with tonight's episode of Canada's Worst Handyman. Last week I watched a woman take one hundred and seventy-one taps with a hammer to drive in one nail. Witnessing the profound incompetence of others is a balm to my wounded sense of accomplishment.