Becky Jane (puppysmuggler) wrote,
Becky Jane
puppysmuggler

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"Holy Crap" or "Read the Fine Print"

For the past 9 days, I have convinced myself that I have to go back to work and check in at 1600 today. I, in fact, got very grumpy last night when I found out that the 8 mile beach run (which I have been plotting ways to get out of since I found out about it) is tomorow morning. "Oh Dear Dog In Cleveland!" I thought to myself, "I do NOT want to run 8 miles! I thought that was going to be on Tuesday, not Wednesday!" So, all day today, I've been plotting new and devious ways to Not Find Out that the run is tomorow, not today. Oh the plans, the sinister plans!
Alas, I finally resigned myself to my fate, hung my head in sorrow, and mentally prepared to be force-run to the beach on foot tomorow morning.

So, I go to WalMart, I get better car insurance, I make some tea... and *siggghhhhhh* get into my cammies and put my hair in a sockbun. I put some civilian clothes in my ditty bag so I can change over after I check in and go get the mEggaMoobieMuffin from the vet where he got his little-boy-cat operation this morning. (Aside: I am going to change his name from Moobie to Bitey McBiterson. Grrr.)

In fact, I was all the way out to my car, cover on my head, when it occours to me that today is... the first of the month. Waitaminnit. *rustles for papers, looks* Guess what? That's right. I don't have to check in until TOMOROW AFTERNOON, a good 8 hours after the run will be over and done with (unless it's been rescheduled, but I'm hoping god wouldn't be that cruel to me.)

So, here I am sitting in my kitchen in my cammies, hair all slicked back in a tight-ass "don't fuck with me" bun... for absolutely no reason whatsoever. The moral of the story is: Always read the fine print, and be aware at all times of what day it is. You never know when this information will save you from something unpleasant.

And on that note, I must go pick up One(1) pissed kitty (less one set of balls) from the vet.

Laters.
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