The Devil Left No Stone Unturned

This started out as a promising sunny warm day that I even got to work thirty minutes early! Thirty! 

Until, Be Warned, the devil woke up.

My boss is kind enough to buy the office tea at ten and today, this was not a kind thing, Boss! Technically so.


Got my fill and went back to my desk where we have: (a) TFT Monitor, (b) keyboard, (c) mouse, (d) printer, (e) IP Phone, (f) calender, (g) novel, (h) stapler, (i) paper-punch (j) printing papers and a bottle of water. Right below my desk is a CPU and in front of it, directly below the mouse, next to my chair, PAY ATTENTION! is my handbag. You started getting ideas?

I place the cup resting on a saucer right between my keyboard and the mouse. I have to move the novel a few inches from the mouse for the saucer to fit. That also implies moving the paper-punch. That is easy. Right. Until I realize the stapler is resting at the edge of the desk and I have to move the mouse, again, to the back of the saucer. Don't get confused. This means the mouse cord is circling the saucer.
Get it? 

Great.


I pull my chair to sit and what other way for Beelzebub to announce presence than, get the mouse cord entangled on the chair and yes, thank you very much, the tea streamed into my HANDBAG! Could my morning get any worse Boss?


See: am still blaming my boss. Stop asking questions and my earphones are giving me the chhrrrrrrr sound but that is better than getting hurt and embarrassed, right? 

If you strongly disapprove writing and reading embarrassing moments, thanks for stopping by and we should see you in the next post.

So, sometime in between numbers 1 and 2, I FELL DRAMATICALLY DOWN THE OFFICE STAIRS, when the heel of my left shoe somehow entered the hem of my right pants leg.

                               How does that even happen?

What happens, if you miraculously manage to impale the heel of your left shoe into the hem of your right pants leg, is that both legs become...confused. Disoriented. "Toppling" ensues. The "toppling" is head first. 

Also: "Ripping." Of pants.

And, I would be so glad that at least nobody had seen me, IF INDEED NOBODY HAD SEEN ME. But unfortunately, that was NOT the case, and my personal downward spiral was witnessed by many, many people, including people whom I try to impress. Bet they're impressed now!

The mortification. MORT. IFICATION. 

I died. 

Right then, I died. 

I am writing this entry from beyond the grave. It's actually not even funny when everyone runs to "your rescue" all like, "am so sorry, are you hurt?" and you are curled there mooting whether you should cry, laugh, get up and run or go like, "of course am not hurt, my head is pretty much used to walking down the stairs very fast."


Am sure there is a bump on my forehead. Everyone says there isn't but I can feel it. It's there and it's growing by the minute. If it grows tumour-size by tomorrow morning, Dear Boss, am not coming to work. Ouch, that ankle joint!