(well, the full dream involves a hot tub, a cool shower with mint soap, a 2 hour, 2 masseuse full body massage and 12 hours of sleep on a feather bed, followed by breakfast in bed with Jamaican Blue coffee, Belgian waffles with strawberries, and country bacon. Followed by a foot rub and a nap.)
Every sane woman (and many men, if they will but admit it) wants this, with the possible addition of chocolate. Yet for some reason, I now am earwormed for "Santa Baby".
the place for which I won't be working come 2009? I am working for them today... which is Saturday no matter which year it is. In both cases, they will not be paying me.
Sox, how did you get corralled into doing that? Working Saturday sucks: Working Saturday without pay sucketh mightily.
I think life just said STOP to me.
Beth, listen to life. You have had a really crappy week. Please be gentle with yourself.
As for me, I am wiped out. And thirsty. And in no mood to have to repeatedly steer Harvey away from trying to stand on my chest while I type. Generally speaking, if I am willing to spend about 7 minutes constantly blocking him and scootching him to a reasonable place on my desk, we can then sit next to each other quite happily, with him getting plenty of petting. I don't have 7 seconds of patience now, so I just whined in the most unpleasant voice I have until he left the room.
Oh, crap. I just threw the top from my yogurt container (yes, folks, I have reached the stage of the course of antibiotics wherein eating yogurt is a necessity) into the trash can by my desk. I'm going to have to fish it out of there, or Harvey will tear up my trash trying to get it.