I'm trying to keep from falling into month-long periods without writing a word, but life gets in the way. I have fun ideas for blog posts and stories that keep getting put off. This job is much meatier than my last, or I'm just listless right now. My week's been interesting to live through at least.
This morning I woke up and noticed missed messages on my phone. I'd been waiting on a coworker to call and tell me he didn't need me to drive out of my way to pick him up, so I figured that was the message. My conscience wouldn't let me leave his travel to chance, so I called back the number to doublecheck.
A deep voice answered with the name of the Maintenance Chief. I rolled my eyes and told my coworker that was very funny. After the third insistence I realized this was indeed the chief of maintenance who'd tried to call me the other night. He'd wanted me to let him into the building, since I was the building manager. When I hung up and hurried because I actually had to pick up the coworker now, I comforted myself that I wasn't as bad off as that Congresswoman who hung up twice on the President. And I avoided a very embarrassing conversation, because on Sunday I'd closed the car door on my dropped set of keys, bending the master key to the building (and my house key, and my apartment key--which led to waiting in the snow for the landlord to drive up with a new set on a day all of the locksmiths are closed--GOOD TIMES!) and I hadn't gotten around to replacing/bending it back.
In the afternoon I drove two hours and got lost in a hospital only to find that the doctor who referred me to this new office hadn't actually written out any diagnosis notes for the lady I needed to see. My real first session was postponed so that she could track down my doctor, and in the interim I can try yawning.
Prior to that I found myself being sharply reminded by the flight chief that my job title is "technician" and not "file clerk" even though I am responsible for all of the files in the office. I swore I'd never be that woman in the office who does all the clerical work, and here I am doing all the clerical work. Why am I doing all the clerical work? Because the boss needed someone to organize the papers and those idiots I work with wouldn't know organized if they tripped over a sorted and labeled pile of it in the lovecraftian pit of disrepair that we laughingly call a workshop. (To be fair it may indeed be a workshop, but I've yet to see the tables cleared so I have my doubts.) Also, I was the "New Guy" at the time the additional duty involving filing opened up.
This is all a typical day for me right now.
So I've been a bit too tired to write substantially. Instead I've been amusing myself with Twitter. Last night I suggested to Canton that Black Widow--who is in her 70s but still looks to be in her 20s due to funky Russian supersoldier experiments--isn't using epic birth control, but rather is post-menopausal. From there we pounded out a premise for what is either the most awful or most awesome miniseries on the Internet--BLACK WIDOW: HOT FLASH.
We're bad people, yes.
(The title was Canton's idea.)