Forget The Details.

An imperious and near invisible glass door preventing me from reaching my ATM had me erupting into senile squeaks which quickly descended into blinding rage. There was a pygmy in a suit, holding some device on the other side, it was all just too much to handle. How could everything this morning go so perfectly up until this moment? And it is entirely Bank of America’s fault. As I wheeled around on my heels I was infuriatingly positioned in front of a Chase Bank ATM conveniently not hidden behind a glass barrier. Dude in the suit got two fingers, but I’m not sure he understood how upset I was. 

Walking back to my office there were construction workers all about and I must have looked like a kitten in a box of yarn. Once back at the office I just stewed. I will just go back later when the glass barrier is removed and admire the ‘scenery’ It gets me away from the old desk anyway.

The General mood of the office appears to be something akin to forced paranoia which is amusing in the lighter moments and quite beyond hysterical the rest of the time. My capacity for disregarding salacious celebrity gossip is consequentially being tested beyond anything I have ever experienced. You show me an 'Office Internet Policy' and I automatically stop understanding words and language.