Unclean

Well, my excema has been flaring up.
Excema, for those of you who don’t know, if medically defined as “itchy stuff on my arms that I don’t actually know if it is excema or not, but every time I fall on the floor itching symmetrically matching parts of my arms, someone tells me that it’s either excema or heroin withdrawal.”
Right now it’s on my two middle fingers, which I take as a huge joke from my body to me. Good one, body. Good one.
I finally got all my Christmas shopping done at 7 A.M. this morning, even though I had to use amazon’s one-day shipping for the last two things to make it to Pittsburgh on time. I can’t complain, I guess. I will just call it a Lazy Tax in my mind.
I did the moronest thing at work today. Even moroner than trying to pass off “moronest” and “moroner” as words.
I sent an email message out to my bosses about a problem I was having, and they responded back in sort of a cryptic way asking if I could work the problem out.
I was really confused and responded back, even though I sort of repeated everything I said in my initial email. I knew I was missing something, but, whatever, sometimes people don’t have time to read every line of every email, and I can respect that.
A couple hours later, it dawned on me.
I was CC’d in the bosses’ response. The response to the systems guys. Not to me.
It just kills me that I was this stupid, because I hate imagining a whole group of people in another state wondering in unison how I can be so stupid, when I’m all the way on the other side of the country wondering the same thing.
And it’s not like I can send another email like, “Oh, now I get it. Sorry, I’m the moronest.” because that’s even moroner.
Ugh.
Well, this wasn’t very interesting, but I haven’t blogged in a while and it was either going to be about this or me eating a tasty bowl of soup the other day, and I’m saving that gem for New Year!

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