Go away

The title is not aimed at you, darling readers. It’s just what pops into my mind because everywhere I turn at work, people are asking me how it’s going. People who don’t even talk to me that often. Word is getting around about Shan leaving town, and the automatic assumption is that “Dawn must be next.” And if I had time or inclination to go through the song and dance of interviewing for a job, honey, I’d be doing it and I wouldn’t be talking about it!

Certain people are just being more and more conspicuous — it’s like the McManagement huddled together and nominated those members who would be most likely to squeeze information out of me to follow me around and say, “How are things? No, really, how is it going?” No, really, I never divulged shit to you before, and I ain’t starting now — assuming, of course, I had anything to divulge.

I just got home from work. Meetings tomorrow and Friday. Proofs somewhere in between. Graphical elements keep disappearing during the conversion from Quark to PDFs. The CEO still hasn’t turned in his column, and I sent the file to the print shop half an hour ago. I guess, in comparison, the “How are you really?” question infintely surpasses the one I am accustomed to hearing: “What’s your real deadline?”

On iTunes: Abigail, “Falling”

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