Like that. Well, in my head anyway. I mean, if I said it out loud I'd probably get fired. Or arrested. At the very least, people wouldn't like me anymore.
Of course, it's really damn cold outside and that doesn't help. I recognize five different levels of cold.
- Brrr, it's chilly. (40's)
- Yikes. Who turned off the heat! (30's)
- Gloves. I need gloves.(20's)
- OMG! (10's)
and anything below that is
- Hurry the hell up and chipachop, Charlie! I'm freakin' freezing!
And it doesn't do any good anyway because when I do that, he looks up at me as if to say, "I beg your pardon. Are you speaking to me, madam? I'll thank you to keep a civil tone." And then he goes back to sniffing around for that elusive, perfect spot.
It was so cold yesterday morning that he only pretended to go chipachop, and then left me a present on the rug when I went to work. Yay.
Okay, so I'm a bit of a stress eater. It's better than robbing banks and beating up old ladies, right?
And that makes me happy! Bwa ha haha ha ha!!!