I’ve been trying to write a post about this stupid goldfish water conservation sink thing for the last hour, but I’m far too listless to function today. So I leave you with this thought:
Wait, no. I don’t even have a thought. Just a dull desire to commit suicide by flinging myself from the 34th floor, but not enough energy to get up from my chair and walk all the way to the window. So please pardon me while I alternately nap at my desk and try to choke myself to death on some 100 calorie pack crackers and a Special K breakfast bar.
I feel your pain. I just ate way too many saltine crackers and I’m only on the 7th floor.
Also, I understand the water is pure on that fishy faucet but I wouldn’t be able to avoid thoughts that I was washing my hands with fishitty water.
The best part of this post is that I was tired enough to think I work on the 34th floor when really I work on the 20th. I’m a fucking moron.
Also, I didn’t even think of fishitty water, but now I need to work that into my vocab post-haste.
‘Twas nice meeting you for 3.5 seconds at the wedding! Next time we’ll chest bump to make shit more official.
I love that you only work on the 20th. Not because you were so tired, but just because it makes me more comfortable in general. It’s much lower than 34, you know. Thank god. I get height sweats after 25.
Ha! Glad I could offer that up.
Apologies for my not chatting you up more. I had food poisoning the day before so I was seated for most of the celebration save rare bursts of energy to get bread and tea and a dancefloor routine with Noah. Or was that a dream?