Stop. Hammertime!

I had seen an e-mail floating around last night about a meeting for this morning, which I tried to head off at the pass by having a conversation with someone before they left for the day yesterday. What I did not know is that I still wasn’t off the hook for today’s meeting.

So, I was in need of caffeine this morning before I went into la oficina and decided to treat myself to a latte, as I gave those up because of the expense. Hah. I made the mistake of checking my e-mail and found, lo and behold, that morning meeting was starting in less than five minutes. Fuck.

I left the Starbucks with no purchase and was about 15 minutes late to said meeting. In which I learned that, yeah, that stuff I was spending a lot of time doing? To stop doing it that way. I’m not sure what way to do it, but I guess I’ll figure that out.

I left that meeting and flew to yet another one 15 minutes late. (Today’s theme, apparently. No 15 minutes of fame here — infamy, yes, but no fame.)

Anyway, three hours after I first tried to get coffee, I finally have a cup. And I’m humming some bizarre hybrid of, “If I Had a Hammer” and “Can’t Touch This,” so to say I’m dreaming of bopping myself over the head with a hammer and putting myself into a coma that lasts until Jan. 15 is probably redundant at this point.

*making a note to go home and look for parachute pants to wear to tomorrow’s meetings. Because I’m Rick James, bitch.*

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