The answer is “no”

If the question is, “did anyone water my poinsettia while I was gone?” (Hey, I don’t buy the damn things. I just kill ’em).

It’s pissing down rain. The zipper’s busted on the back window of my ragtop, so I poked a hole in the fabric and jiggered it back together in the middle with a twist-tie. My psychic powers tell me I shall arrive home with a wet ass.

First email in the pile this morning was a screen capture of our technical documentation application with the notation, “can this be fixed?” I call him up.

Me:  “Can what be fixed? It looks fine to me.”
Him: “That picture. It comes up every time I load the CD.”
Me:  “That…wait, what? There’s only one…do you mean that picture on the right there?”
Him: “Yeah.”
Me:  “That’s…that’s the front cover.”
Him: “Has it always been there?”
Me:  “Just since 1997.”

God. Damn. It’s like somebody brought in a big bowl of chewy caramel-covered stupid and everybody’s been pigging out for two weeks.

Yeah. I’m back. And I’m chapped in allllll the tender places.


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