I just fielded a call (a wrong number) at my office from song young boy who was asking if "Melissa" was there. I told him he had the wrong number, missing an excellent opportunity to completely destroy his life. Melissa doesn't want to ever see you again, you punk!
I was trying to relax (and read for pleasure) at Peet's this morning and every bloody person who sat near me had one or more really small kids who, naturally, couldn't sit still. God-fucking damnit! I'm already extremely stressed out, so you can imagine who tightly-strung things like that will make me. I can't do anything about it, although I did tell one of the kids sternly not to touch my stuff after she started to put her hand in my backpack. Second-hand toddlers can really piss me off sometimes.
I'm getting a few small work errands done, and that's calming me down more than my attemps to read the Death Gate Cycle did.
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