Bwaaaaa haaaaaa haaaaaaaaaa!
*rocking in the corner*
Bwaaaaaaa haaaaaa haaaaaaaaaaa!
*rock rock rock*
Some days you get a sign. A sign that you should never have got the fuck outta bed.
My sign this morning was waking at 6am freaking out that we were late. When we weren’t.
That Boo seemed a little stuffed up.
That I couldn’t find the skirt that I SWORE I laid out the night before.
That my coffee was cold when I finally got to it.
The universe was trying to tell me to climb back into bed.
It is now 2pm. I am home from work with a vomiting child. At the moment I found out about said vomiting child I had a group of people surrounding my desk arguing about who is the biggest fuck wit. I was rocking slightly in my chair thinking about running over to the coffee shop and asking them to put a little something in my double shot skinny latte in a milkshake cup. People standing on the fringes wondering who was going to be the first to feel my wrath. I think someone was taking bets.
Me smiling sweetly about to knock some heads.
Then my phone rang. Boo is unwell. Boo is vomiting. Boo wants to come home.
My smile widened and I started laughing. Scaring the living fuck out of the fringe dwellers and stopping the arguers in their tracks. I hung up the phone and put my head in my hands. I office was silent. Looks were exchanged.
I couldn’t stop giggling.
I packed up my bag, turned off my computer and left the carnage behind me. Fuckers can deal with it themselves.
I need to have my own private breakdown.
Won’t you join me? Fuck it’s funny.