i'm writing from hell - aka a temp job. my lovely temp company assigned me to this post back in april for "a three-week job" and I have been here ever since. they tell me it now goes until the end of august, although they've told me it goes to the end of every month and yet it keeps extending into oblivion.
i sit.
and wait for something to do. luckily i have my school work with me so if i have enough time i can get some things done, but mostly i just waste my brain cells on the information superhighway searching and searching for what i really want to do with my life.
the woman i work with and sit beside in our lovely cubicles continues to refer to her nose as her 'smeller.' for instance, 'my smeller hurts' means that she has a sinus infection. 'my smeller's broken' apparently means that her nose is stuffed up and she can't smell anything. it's quite poetic.
the vice president left a xerox copy of a picture of gnomes on a rooftop on my desk one morning with the words 'how many gnomes in this picture?' i counted eight, but still not sure why i even cared enough to count. smeller stared at the picture over my shoulder for a longer than comfortable time and she finally said, 'i don't know. i don't see any. and now i'm paranoid it's some sort of rorschach test, but am afraid to ask.
i suppose i shall now return to putting invoices in order and highlighting them on a sheet when they're complete - a strangely and surprisingly satisfying task.
