
The universe is conspiring to reduce me to a skeletal drunk.
I haven't quite been the same since getting sick a few weeks ago. My diminished appetite isn't yet fully restored and the circus that is my job is driving me to think more about when I can next go out for drinks.
I joke about self-medicating, but it feels like I'm becoming the joke these days. Not funny...
After today's assembly of the motley crew that is my department, it's clear that giant bowls of ice cream, bottomless teapots and lunchtime rants aren't going to cut it. And forget the wooly mammoth. I need something to address my anger and disappointment with the way things have turned at the office. Because, apparently, I can't reconcile these things myself.
Getting drunk with colleagues seems a fun and easy distraction. We'll probably exchange inappropriate thoughts and encourage each other to behave badly, but when we're back in the office next week we'll surely return to our dark, little corners and continue muttering under our collective breath.
And what will we be muttering? When's the next outing?
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