if you go commando at work, at least don’t tell everyone

Despite still looking like a badly-peeled sweet potato around the unmentionables, I decided I had better wear pants to the office today. This is not the US form of the word ‘pants’, but the Brit one – and even though I’m wearing trousers (or, to Americans, ‘pants’) over the pants, it still doesn’t feel Right, dammit.

However, tonight, we has the Office Two-For-One Meal Deal with the Wee Lady Who Used To Have The Big Trolley. I want to at least feel respectable. And indeed I reckon I must be feeling respectable – it nips like anything.

‘It is her birthday’, I was warned, ‘Go out and get a card’. So I did, traipsing all the way down the road, whereupon it promptly came on to rain, and wasn’t I ten pence short for a card plus a box of Roses, so I had to go all the way back down the road a second time. During which, it came on to rain again, fuelling my suspicions that I am far more important to someone Up There than I have any right to be, and I realised that wearing pants is like having a hot iron held against my leg.

I decided I had better go commando today after all. This is wrong on so many levels, not least that I am now informing the internet about it. I take no responsibility for any loss of appetite caused; I ain’t having a good week either.

For instance, despite going all the way down the road twice, I forgot to go to the cash machine, and when I nipped out to use the one round the corner, this lassie very kindly informed me her card was jammed in it.

And it was cold, and I was sore and shattered, and it was the rainiest night in ages, and I was supposed to be walking eight miles to go draw naked people. I woulda called in sick, but I’d promised to take Cherry with me. Christ, and all I have is her landline. So I called it to say, Could we not?

Mercifully, she answered. Oh is it Tuesday? said Cherry. I’m staying in and eating soup with the heating on, it’s horrible out.

Well that’s one problem sorted. And my Colleague of Skull Scarves subbed me for the roast chicken (eating skin will grow skin faster, right?) and my Colleague of Cakes gave me a lift home and I did not pass go and went immediately to bed. The hell is wrong with me? That cold was weeks ago!

Very heartily glad I am for my new draught excluder.

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About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
This entry was posted in idiotic injuries, social events. Bookmark the permalink.

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