I’ve been gone for a while, I know. Let the complaints begin…Thanksgiving. I was thankful that the cops weren’t called for the second year in a row and no one got stinking drunk. Yippee. A real accomplishment for my husbands family. Although I was informed that it was our fault that my husband’s grandfather’s heater wasn’t fixed and why his aunt’s life sucks. Don’t ask. I assure you not only is it a boring story, but I story I hear all too often.
A little recap back story: In my ‘bubble’ my husband and I have the so called ‘money’. That means we’re surrounded by sharks. Or maybe piranhas Or vultures. Or soul sucking demons. Regardless, you get it. To my face everyone adores me, but behind my back…oh yeah the rumors run rampant.
Apparently, I’m sleeping with my best friend and other secretary, we’ll call her, Red Diamond. And yes I said “she”. Not my husband is sleeping with her, although last year that’s how the rumor started. We both were sleeping with her because apparently if you help your best friend buy a car and buy some clothes that must mean your sleeping with her if you spend your money on anybody but them. But, now apparently its just me that’s getting all the action. If I were my husband I think I would be offended. The funny thing is that I’ve been with my husband since I was 14. You’d think after 16 years the people starting these rumors would have kinda figured out I wasn’t gay.
We had to fire our other secretary and I stress the word had to. My oldest little diamond could have done a better job. I’ll be cleaning up her mess for the next year and have been for the past four weeks.
And…my house has freakin‘ mold. MOLD. And I have to move because of it. Not that I’m complaining about the move. I’m excited about that. You’d have thought, if you knew me, that I’d planted the mold just to get out of this house I hate it so much. But, no. I think of it as a gift from above.
I could literally go on. And on. Maybe Cyndi is right. I do whine. At my office, behind my back of course, its called something else. Or maybe its that I’m called something else. The guys at my office visibly shrank when I told them I would have to be in the office. Am I that bad? Considering I’ve only met a few DSRA members, don’t answer that. You poor people have no clue. Lets keep it that way okay.