cheshire42

It's March, February's gone g'bye, spring is in the wings having a smoke before she steps on stage, and the heart beats just that much faster.

Feb's end brought the end of probation at work for your humble scribe, Reader, and I'm proud to announce I passed the crucible with flying colors. Cheer if you care to, I know I'm grinnin'. All the energy I've been devoting to luggin' Work's guillotine around like a masochistic Atlas... can now be shunted into much more productive areas of livin'. I relish this opportunity, O Reader. It's quite the understatement to say I'm fucking well tired of being under the blade.

I also have a little bit of what I call "Peter's Wolf Syndrome" goin' on right now. That is to say, I've been under a haze of dread for the last two months, I heard that damn wolf growling, Peter said it was out here, it's just around the corner, where's my stick, I'll hit the bastard before it eats me, I swear I will, okay, turning the corner now...

And there's no wolf. Just me, stick in hand, alone in the forest, alive. I wouldn't mind taking this stick and introducing it to Peter's nether regions, but I digress. I'm glad the wolf wasn't there, but a little embarrassed about getting so worried about it in the first place. I feel like all I saw was the sharp teeth (the better to eat me with!), but the rest of the world was like - Peter says wolf every five fucking seconds. You really think there's one out there?

Well, yeah. It was. Right?