Things I Should Never Say Again

"Things have finally calmed down at work, so..."

This leads to the discovery of statutes that mean that I'll be lugging around bankers boxes full of files for the rest of the summer.  I'm 4'9" (145 cm) and weigh about 110 (50 kg) on a bad day if I've required lots of comfort food, which I haven't this week.  But by the end of this, I'm gonna be mad buff, yo.

(Physically, I am uniquely ill suited to this task, but I do like manual labor.  It's just that I'm really sick of being in a basement all day.  And now I have to really book it to try and get as much done for the appointment with the shredder on Wednesday, and, oh yeah, I'm going to be in Chicago hanging out with my bishonen cousin from tomorrow through Monday.  Tuesday's gonna SUCK.  Denyce, I'm getting your beta done in the airport tomorrow, much love.)

Furthermore and in addition to the last post...

... I'm upstairs again stealing a few minutes of internet access because that goddamn basement is haunted.  I'm the only one down there, and stuff moves around, and not like mice moving it around (although the mice are in fact down there).  Some of the file boxes contain old evidence, including the clothing people were wearing when they died.  In some cases, violently.  This fact didn't freak me out until about twenty minutes ago when a shelf full of glass slides (mostly, once again, the blood samples of long dead clients) which was on the other side of the room and had been contentedly standing there for decades decided to slip and shatter to the ground, and then the whole building groaned, and it took two cigarettes before I stopped shaking.  And I'm a perfectly logical person who doesn't really believe in ghosts, but it's getting a little freaky down there, and for once, I'd kind of like to have Sam Winchester around for reasons other than jumping his bones.

Okay, I'd still jump his bones, but only after he scanned the hell out of the basement with his EMF meter.

Right.  Now I'm insane and I have to go find a medical waste bag and gloves to go clean up the slides.  Sometimes this job sucks.