Sizzle Says

Confession One: Until seeing Capote the other day, I had no knowledge that Breakfast at Tiffany’s was written by Truman Capote. And I received a minor in Literature. Go figure.

Confession Two: Until about my late, late teens I thought the rhythm method was actually about the “rhythm” of the actual act of sex. What’s this you tell me? It has to do with ovulation? Well I’ll be! (Thanks Catholic school sex ed.)

Confession Three: I have never seen Citizen Kane. Up until recently, I had it pegged for a western. Why? I. Have. No. Idea. Shocking, I know.

Confession Four: The other day I sent my sister an email saying, “Hey, we should totally go see this band when you visit in April!” and I sent her the link to their site. She wrote back, “Uh, are we going to be time traveling? Because that tour was in 1998.” I looked. It said, plain as day, at the top of the page 1998. This was on the same day that I “discovered” a cheap shuttle that would take me and my crew of friends to all the wineries in Monterey and Carmel. I emailed it out and we all agreed it was a great idea. Yay for free wine and a designated driver! Until. Until Supple read the actual link and discovered that this too-good-to-be-true shuttle was a test run. It doesn’t actually operate right now. Balls! I so should not be trusted with information on the internet. I clearly do not use it wisely.

My right arm is starting have a dull ache. My fingers of my right hand are remarkably cold while the left hand is fine. The right side of my body is tight and knotted. I crack my neck incessantly. I may even be starting to limp. Just slightly.

Do you know what these signs mean?

That I am about primed for a lawsuit.

Ha ha. Just kidding non-profit that I work for! Just. Kidding. I don’t even know what “worker’s comp” is . . . *ahem*.

But seriously? I am in P.A.I.N. I need a new office set up. When I sit at my desk my keyboard tray slants down towards me and basically rests on my thighs. This is not how it is supposed to be. Even I know that. The irony is that the tray holds an ergonomic keyboard. Sure, my fingers are on the right keys but a lot of good that does when the tray is broken. The mouse sits up on my desk to my right, not on the nifty little tray that slides out from the keyboard tray. Why? Because someone cleverly stuck a file cabinet right in the way. There is no room to pull it out, thus rendering it useless. I have a foot rest but really all that does is support my legs to hold up the broken keyboard tray. The arms of my chair get in the way so that my elbows have little room to move and there is no back support whatsoever. I stretch periodically while stationed at my desk but all the yoga moves in the world can’t counteract the damage of this un-ergonomic work station.

Do you feel my pain?

I suppose it is time to take matters into my own hands (before I lose all feeling in my right one). I’m going to have to get down under my desk amidst the paper scraps and forgotten pens and try to fix the tray myself with a screwdriver and a lot of swearing. Too bad we don’t have any duct tape lying around. My dad used to fix everything with duct tape and swearing. It was genius.