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It is official. I am signing off from work on May 9th! God, does it feel good!
I am tired. I am tired of the whining from 10, 11 and 12 year olds. I am tired of the continuous "who swallowed a basketball/penguin waddler" jokes from my truly beloved colleagues and I am tired of walking up and down a half mile hall every time I have to go to the bathroom--which is ALL the time!
My line, up until now has been, "all I've got is my hair and my cute shoes"--(I stole this from Kate). Ladies and Gents...I can't tell you the last time I actually did my hair or wore a pair of cute shoes. Is this a hint for what may lie ahead?
I was talking with my Pop about a week ago. Rick doesn't tell me my business (o.k. maybe a little sometimes--he is a registered Republican, after all) or ask me for much, but he mentioned that he thought it would be a good idea if I took off from work a tad early. I had to listen. Pop is not a man that suffers from "diarrhea of the mouth" (I must have inherited that from somewhere else...or created that "trait" all on my own.) We visited with LeVanda on Friday. She agreed with what Pop said and actually wrote out a script that states that I will be disabled, come May 9th (38 weeks). Now if I could just get her to write me a prescription for a Spa Week in Arizona...or Hawaii...or Paris...or...