I had a rough day today at work. ROUGH. To say my morning assignment was challenging was an understatement at best. Geezominey did I want to just be able to throw my hands up, declare that that was it for me, and go out on a high note.
But I wasn't done. Drive drive drive and then drive some more to my afternoon assignment with a wreck on I-85 and some construction strategically placed to make me five minutes late. Hoo-rah. The assignment wasn't bad, but geezominey did I have a headache by the time I was in my car to drive home.
Home, safe and secure, my refuge from the maelstrom that is the world...or so one would think. I'm lying on my bed, snuggling with my puppers, when I hear something outside the glass door on my porch. Critter I think? Not exactly. A bit bigger.
Geezominey, there is a man on my back porch!
Right before I called 911 I took a closer look and determined that it was the man that I've written about before, the one hired by my landlord to paint the outside of my house. Now maybe I'm just being a girl, but I don't much like the fact that I found out he was here when I happened to notice him in my backyard! Quick call to the landlord's voice mail and I felt a little bit better...but geezominey man, don't you knock?
There is a bottle of excedrin in the bathroom with my name written all over it, a man with a skill saw in my back yard, and a greyhound spinning in the front room. And I'd be willing to lay down money that my gate is standing wide open...geezominey.
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