a case of the mondays

my office is not a normal place. it just. isnt. the women who work here are the human personification of the "hang in there" cat posters seven year old girls and creepy middle-aged women who collect cats and porcelain figurines from ebay, hang on their walls.

take today for example: the receptionist is wearing a floor length bright blue skirt, red ascot "tie" and black blazer. apparently, her patriotic attire is intentional to "celebrate" 9-11 all week long. by "celebrate" i hope she meant commemorate.

i walked into the kitchen to refill my water bottle and sitting out on the counter are a tray of crackers, an open tin of sardines, and an open tin of smoked oysters. i was the only one in the kitchen. where did these things come from? why are they out? whose lunch (at 10:30 a.m.) consists of oysters and sardines? now i cant eat my lunch until the kitchen airs out. once again, im being held hostage in my cube. and even my cube isnt safe; i have to wear earplugs to block out the cooing sounds of them speaking baby talk and calling each other "little girl,"and "boo-boo."