I can't concentrate at work, being that the "Cat Lady" is in my personal space again talking about her cat's pregnancy. The other day she actually imitated "the babies inside my kitty's tummy." Lady, there are so many things wrong with what you're doing - not to mention that someone should have taught you that female species don't carry babies in their "tummies" next to Taco Bell or Meow Mix or whatnot.
At the present moment she's describing how last night the cat gave birth, "squishing out the kitties" and saying in a high-pitched, supposed-cat-like voice, "get them out of me! get them out of me!"
So, since I'm on the ledge of tolerance and about to consider the benefits of beverage consumption in the workplace restroom, I might as well cool off and blog.
Occasionally I break down and watch an episode or two of the ridiculous Sex and the City. It's not my favorite show, by any means, but it has its moments. And in one episode, Carrie says this: "Despite the fact that there are over eight million people on the island of Manhattan, there are times you still feel shipwrecked and alone. Times even the most resourceful survivor would feel the need to put a message in a bottle, or on an answering machine."
And all I want to say today is, thanks, Mr.Broken Toes, for returning my message in a bottle.
You and me? We're gonna keep this world spinning. And I have all the confidence in the world that no matter where we end up, if we toss out a message in a bottle (or a text message), we'll catch it for each other.