I don’t have enough thank you’s to properly thank Sparky for talking me down off the ledge yesterday. I’m so used to people trying to shove me off said ledge that I really didn’t know how to handle being calmly talked down. I kind of felt like a wild dog that someone was trying to woo into submission with bologna slices…wary, apprehensive and nervous, should I take the bologna or just bite him? Thank you for caring, Sparky; I don’t wanna get all mushy on ya because it’s far too early in the day for that nonsense, but it means the world to me and then some.
I must’ve been in bad shape since Stampin T has already come by this morning to make sure I’m ok. She said I was the most stressed she’d ever seen me in eight years yesterday…and as a coworker and member of the same team at work, she’s seen me in some stellar moments over the years, so I guess yesterday was a doozie.
Gawd bless Scootster for taking Minime overnight to play with his wild girl, feeding us dinner and letting me drink not just the beer in front of my plate, but the beer in front of his plate, too, and the one after that and the one after that. I owe ya.
Thanks—I’ll try to do better and not stifle everything down until I snap, but I can’t promise anything…old habits, ya know. You can throw the bologna my way—I might eat it or I might take your fingers off, but thanks for trying anyway.