Busy Work

As I told you yesterday, Satan just left for vacation. Which means two weeks which should be relatively stress-free here in hell. Except for the fact that when I got in this morning, there was a three inch thick file on my desk with instructions to "organize these documents chronologically" and then "type out a database of the documents with specific details about each one." What the f***? How am I supposed to goof off and write my blog with THAT hanging over my head?? I seriously think that this little project will pretty much take up the whole two weeks. And the bitch of it is, he had me do basically the same thing LAST year when he went on vacation. Only I found my saved list from last year and apparently he wants more details this year. AND he totally shuffled around all the damn papers in the file. See now why we call him Satan?

Then I get a call from a current client who is totally blitzed (yes, at 8:45 AM) asking if he can sue the bar he was at last night because they TOTALLY overserved him and while walking home, he fell and "broke his face." It took about twenty minutes of listening to his incoherent rambling before I managed to explain to him that I would have to talk to the attorney and call him back. Then another ten or so minutes to get him to say goodbye and hang up. By the way - just in case you too are as clueless as he is - the answer is NO, you cannot sue a bar for serving you too much if you only hurt YOURSELF. Because if you could, there wouldn't be many bars left open for business.

So, here I am. I kind of looked at the file on my desk, and decided that it could wait for a few more minutes while I write. I keep hoping it will magically disappear or something. I mean, I had PLANS for these two weeks. I brought my portable tv to watch my soaps during the day and therefore have more time for evening reality tv (or the Cubs - whichever is less painful to watch), I have a couple books I've been meaning to catch up on, there are a few friends that I can call during the day - not to mention my blog. Now I have to do stupid "busy work." I can't believe I can't be trusted to keep myself busy. Unreal.

Oh, well. What do you do? Nada. Zilch. Zip. Deal with the man and collect your paycheck, that's what. I guess honestly I could probably finish the file from hell in a couple days if I just set my mind to it. But with my ADD, I doubt I'll be able to do that. So it probably WILL take up the whole two weeks.

Anyway. Enough complaining - even though I'm allowed to do that since this is, after all, MY blog. But anyway (again) - you are absolutely NOT going to believe what happened this morning. Ok, you probably will, but it sounds much more dramatic that way. My cell started ringing at 7:45 in the AM - turns out it was a call from a mysterious south side number. OF COURSE, I didn't answer it, and whoever it was didn't leave a message either. When I did a reverse look-up on the computer for the number in question, it turns out the locale of that number is in the epicenter of Mr. South Side-ville. Now, I know I shouldn't jump to conclusions, I mean, it COULD have been just a wrong number, and an innocent mistake, but my gut tells me otherwise. My gut is telling me I have driven this poor sap to drink and he is now drunk-dialing me from his friend's house or wherever. AND my gut is telling me that maybe just tossing the tiki wasn't enough, that maybe I really DO need to find Vincent Price. Which would really suck, since the garbage men came Wednesday morning, so I would probably have to go to a damn landfill to find the thing. Either that, or just start getting used to the Exorcist theme again.

You know, the weirdest thing of all is that I almost MISS the drama. Almost. Hearing the phone playing his tune and wondering what psycho message would be in my voice mail kept me on my toes. Then I realize that stalkers are NOT supposed to be fun. And things usually end up badly with them too. So I guess I can just be happy with the drama on tv instead. Gee, I really seem to be rambling on today. See what happens when I am trying desperately to avoid work? At this rate, as long as that file is on my desk I could be cranking out DOZENS of interesting blogs. Hmmm. Imagine that. Well, I guess I'll sort a couple of pages for now and check back later.