Working on a Saturday during the summer...

REALLY well - excuse my french but it sucks. Here I sit in this interior office, staring at numbers and letters and wondering what the heck I did in a previous life to deserve all this?

But the only way to chew through this mountain o' crap-ola is to get at it... and we have been in addition to eating my every expanding weight in heaven only knows... I just feel fat when I travel. Yeesh. (no we won't mention Fried Pickles -had those only once with my co-worker)

On the Fun side, there is a convention of Jehovah Witnesses in my hotel - these people are entirely too talky at breakfast - I much prefer the Army men, get your breakfast your paper hush up and eat already. These people have to talk about the options, how to work the waffle machine, is this the only eggs you have - oh look toast! Yeesh - get it sit down and hush up peppy in the AM Aunt Ing so doesn't do...

And the cherry on the Sundae of my crappy Saturday? Bubba called - (you knew this was coming) Now I stupidly figured I was off the hook as his Dad came up for a visit as they are both single in the city this weekend --- but NO.. he has to call to ask me (quoting) "This envelop you left by the phone with a lab thing - what is this?"

Now keep in mind boys and girls I have 1) been gone since Tuesday 3 AM no less 2) have talked to him almost daily since then 3) have been working 10-11 hour days since I got here and he wants me to remember a single envelope I laid down last week by the phone - including contents and directions for use? SERIOUSLY.

And to really top it off he got cranky when I started asking questions - as I had no flipping clue what he was talking about... when I finally dragged a semi-close description of said SEALED envelop - I said yes mail it - that would involve getting a stamp, and placing it in an approved USPS box - they are usually blue dear. And his father was in the car as they were driving where ever while he's chewing me out about some random letter...

THEN he called again to ask me where the stamps in the house were... they are in my purse. Its called a post office moron... back at it...