Somebody stop me
So, I was at an all-morning sales training meeting and as a result had no chance to eat a mid-morning snack. Then I got so engrossed in work stuff I forgot to eat lunch (that is, in itself, a minor miracle) until about 3:30pm.
But then, when I got to the fridge at 3:30, I found that Gordon , who works-for-me-but-not-for-long-if-keeps-this-up, had snaffled almost all of my tomato soup (with basil). I heated two teaspoonfuls in a cup, crumbled in an old stale roll, and pretended it was food. Gordon blamed GBW, and he’s probably right.
And now I’m home, GBW is telling me it’ll still be 15 minutes until the next E2 concoction is ready for dinner. She’s just shoved a plate of salad and chick-peas in front of me as a stop-gap. And a fork. You can’t eat chick-peas with a fork!
(Observant readers will point out that I should be bloody grateful GBW is so kind as to make my food at all, and that I should stop moaning. And they’d be right. They’d also be mistaking me for someone who, having eaten more than about 12 calories in the past eight hours, cares.)
I’m about to eat my own leg. Somebody stop me.
