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I fought like hell to get out of bed this morning. I had both the air conditioner and fan running and the most perfect chilly-air outside my thick comforter cocoon of faux suede. Well, that and my cutie fiance was all snuggled and tangled around me. He has the week off and I openly admit, any excuse not to go into the office and play and I am THERE!



So, I shuffled and groaned my way from the bedroom to the bathroom and gave serious thought to any number of catastrophes that could befall me and prevent me from going to work. I came up with none. And was pissed.



When I showed up to the office at 7am, I found out that half the people would be in training and one other would be leaving early. This left my two and a half, high and mighty managers and me. the high and mighty detest having to do anything lowly, such as say... picking up clients and bringing them to the office, writing contracts for the clients, fielding dopy and not-so dopey questions... I admit they are quite proficient at making sure they seem hard at work. When a man chews on the end of his pencil, taps his temple or fold his fingers and places the tips thoughtfully on his chin -- who's to say the end of cancer is not far behind?



After having been sent on errands that no one person should have to juggle without taking anti-psychotics, I decided I would treat myself to breakfast and leisurely make my way to my next client pick-up.

I did and was happy.



Later, after having been swamped, I headed for lunch around 220pm. I decided that the Geneva Convention clearly stated that any overworked human had the right to reappropriate any lunch time as they saw fit. I decided I required an additional ten minuted to my allotted hour. I even moved my car to a nice shady parking space, ate my sandwich and then fell asleep with the windows partly down.

Oops on me, I must have really dozed because the two-way on my phone starts going off and one of the high and mighty are asking my whereabouts. Oh shizzle.



I quickly and quite expertly, might I add, ran (well drove very fast) to a nearby ice-cream store and bought everyone sundaes. My distraction was a success, I got to write off the ice-cream as an expense and no one saw past their treats to mention my tardiness. i was, in fact, repeatedly thanked... I expect a song to be written about me.



Don't get me wrong, I bust my arse at work. I was just so drained I couldn't see straight, not to mention that I work six days a week from dawn to dusk and only have a few hours of consciousness before I crash for the night.



Today's sin was totally justified and more than likely to be repeated tomorrow when I get three hours of "marketing" time that I do not have to account for to anyone...



(Damn, I think I just felt a twinge of guilt...)