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Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Done and done.




My brain. Totally fried. I borrowed my friend's vacuum (since both of mine crapped out last week) and brought it home in my car. Since it's huge, I left it in the car and then attempted to ask Kev if he could bring it inside for me. The conversation went something like this:

"Kev, when you take the trash out, can you get the thing out of my car?" *miming vacuuming to him*

*Kev looks at me quizzically*

"You know, that thing that I just picked up from Alissa? Can you get it out of my car for me?" *once again miming vacuuming to Kev*

I cannot for the life of me effectively communicate anything.

And if the client with the chickens won't stop being passive-agressive I'm going to be forced to take some action to show him how a man handles confrontation. There's no need for insinuations that you don't like the company; just come right out and say it.

Really though, this is just the hormones talking. The same hormones that I gave into on Wednesday night when both vacuums broke and I sat in front of a fan and cried for a minute because it made me so sad that I couldn't finish cleaning dog hair off the couch cushions.

But, as you know, Alissa hooked me up with a vacuum to help me get over myself and clean my Pink House. And the chicken guy... well... I'll just let my co-worker deal with him since she's not as bothered by his hemming and hawwing as I am.

I'm so excited to work half days!

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