Style Award for Elizabeth's amazing prose that wrapped a whine within an antiwhine: "Starting to finally understand that my organization will never listen to my complaints of understaffing as long as I get the work done anyway."
Old Skool Award for Liz's litany of small misfortunes: salt in the coffee, tripping, and a headache. All that adds up to an award! Congratulations!
Elevated Risk of Mullet to KLee (and her dad) for "41. Eh--it's better than the Great Dirt Nap, I suppose." That is still cracking me up. Totally inappropriate to use in my professional capacity, but you can bet that ministers and funeral directors have all kinds of inappropriate stories to share in the hearse. This one's going on my list.
Quaking in My Boots Award to KLee for this sentence: "We have a barking phenomenon going around in my classroom." Stand strong, sister, stand strong. More quaking for Elizabeth's tummy rumbling and sore eye.
Cluesticks abound this week. Sue's colleagues who won't act like grown-ups; Liz's doctor's office, who seems to think she enjoys being put on hold and hung up on (surely there's a double penalty for ending a sentence with not one, but two, prepositions, but I can't figure out how to fix it); people who can't address envelopes to accommodate--you know--the 21st century; Sue's fireplacing headaches; "That Kid" who ruins it for the rest of us (well, nonviolent cluesticks for this one); people who organize conference calls without clear agendas; ultrasound techs with poker faces; and anyone else who messes with a whining pixie.
Good wishes for clear mammograms for Sue and Liz. Apologies to anyone I've missed. Tune in next week when redzils will host all your whines, large and small!