I came into the office early this morning to get a jump on this ever-so-frustrating brief I'm writing. Walked in the door just after 7, before any of the secretaries had arrived, armed with my coffee and breakfast roll. I was already feeling a tad frazzled, since I'd managed to just-miss my intended bus and was behind my self-imposed schedule. Then, while turning on my computer and trying to figure out why the e-mail system kept booting me out, I managed to knock my coffee (that strong, black, life-sustaining coffee) all over my desk, my floor, my chair, and myself.
The string of cuss words that erupted from my mouth could have shamed the counter crowd at Madge's Roadside Pub 'n' Grub and turned the ears of a small child blue. I stormed through the (thankfully empty) office in search of paper towels, then spent the next 20 minutes trying to get the java off myself and everything around me while begging the tech guy to fix the e-mail problem from afar. I left Steve a panicky, choked up message, then plopped a pile of paper towels and my coffee-damp tush on my soaked chair and tried to focus.
Given that I hadn't actually consumed any of the coffee before I spilled it, this was nigh on impossible. But around 8, an altruistic colleague saved me with a fresh, hot cuppajoe. And then, while trying to recapture the motivation and energy with which I'd left the house this morning, I read this. And now I'm really choked up.
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