Today was brutal.
I sat through an 8-hour meeting. The first of many such weekly 8-hour meetings. Until January, when they become twice-weekly 8-hour meetings.
Despite said meeting, I learned extraneous things.
For example, a vendor that we've been working with closely for months, whose Chicago-area employees I'm grown incredibly fond of, may leave our project.
Also, an esteemed member of the very old guard of my company (15+ years) is leaving next month for a scandal-shrouded reason.
Finally, after all this, I got back to my desk around 5 pm to find this voicemail waiting for me:
"Hi! Julius is back! We'll be here until 6 pm if you want to come pick him up."
(The few neurons still functioning finally figured out this was the receptionist at my vet's office, telling me Julius's ashes were back for me to pick up.)
On my way out of the office, I stopped in to talk to a coworker, who's been dealing with the same stressful work conditions with her own team.
I told her about the phone call from the vet, using the exact wording I heard in the message.
She said, "God, that's like Pet Sematary!" (the Stephen King book about pets coming back to life, misspelling intentional)
And I then pretended that I'd answered the call, using my mock finger-phone...
"Is this Stephen King? I told you NEVER to call me here!!!"
And we both dissolved into scarily crazed laughter.
Somewhere this side of the rainbow bridge, Julius is meow-talking his approval at my deranged ability to cope. And probably pouncing on Maggie just for the helluvit.
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