(no subject)

Whenever the phone rings after a certain time of night (or before a certain time of the day), my heart leaps into my throat. It hammers away like a mad thing hammers. This time I was sitting at my computer, writing faux things in faux French, when my cell phone went off like a shot of Brass Monkey.

It stopped ringing by the time I got it out of my bag, but the missed call read out told me that it had been my boss calling. After midnight? Oh dear.

I called her back only to find out that she and the doctor are sitting in a diner right now, working. And that the doctor had been using her cell phone, accidentially dialing my number. She apologized profusely and told me to have a good day tomorrow and to call her with any updates (I'm going to a meeting with the nursing home about my mother, don't know what to expect).

I love my boss. She's the best. Yesterday, I came into my office to find a letter on my chair, written in green highlighter, telling me how sorry she was about the craziness of Friday (which I can't recount for all of you due to that damnable non-disclosure agreement I signed, but I will say it was very crazy indeed) and telling me how great I am.

It gave me the warm fuzzies, I tell you. I've never worked for anyone before who was so gracious to me. Not to mention that this coming Saturday, she and her roommate are throwing a party to benefit my mother. Well, it's kind of a party.

You know those Tupperware parties housewives give? It's like that.
Only no Tupperware. It's sex toys.

For serious.

(no subject)

When one only enjoys peanuts and cashews, one should probably not buy a can of mixed nuts.

I'm just saying.

I don't like brazil nuts or hazelnuts. And I probably wouldn't put a pecan in my mouth, even if you paid me.