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The wages of being a dumbass...

...are sore feet and rushing to catch up on work that should have been done yesterday. See, I always unload my pockets before weighing in every week, and tend to stash my keys, comb, nail clipper, etc. in my desk while I go upstairs. (Yeah, we have WW At Work. It's almost too convenient.) Yesterday I did this, and forgot to stick my truck key back in my pocket, which became hideously apparent when I got off the 589 at St. Edward's and realized to my horror that the key was not in my pocket but still in my desk. At work. Downtown.

That pretty much blew my night. I spent the next four hours on buses, the LRT, more buses, and finally hiking for 30 minutes through the tangled development of Pointe Terrace from where the 539 dropped me off before I reached my truck. I suppose I could have called phoenixalpha and had her get Scott to come get me, but as far as I knew he was down to the gas he needed to get to work, so even if I'd had my cell phone I didn't think it was an option. As it was, I read most of Grant Moves South, familiarized myself with the strangeness of the 542 and 539 routes, and got in some good exercise, which I badly needed after succumbing to fatigue and hunger at the Sprawl. I made the mistake of eating at Long John Silver's - ah. let's be fair. The fish was good, the clams okay, and the hush puppies were actually pretty good...but the shrimp is awful and the cocktail sauce for the shrimp should be a hanging offense. Blech.

This morning I had to jump through my butt on arrival and crank out a couple of reports that were due yesterday but not done due to sloth, indolence and forgetfulness. It's strange, but I actually perform better when I have a lot of stuff on my plate, because then I don't slack off and forget about things that need to be done.

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