My boss comes here, depriving me of horriday, gives me a good dressing-down, sorts everything out, then we're fine. Then, just as I'm being a good boy and being grown-up and sorting everything out, in the middle of a shite week, I get another dressing-down e-mail with three -- count 'em -- three sequential exclamation marks. Do fuck off!
Add to that that the Cat is being an uppity (sp?) drama queen, despite my Krispy Kreme trip lastnight, and never lets me get to sleep until he's ready, plus the fact that I haven't had a weekend in weeks, without any let-up in sight, and I really am close to the end of my tether.
What, as our American cousins would say, is with these people?
I go home....
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