Recidivist apology seeker (and other ramblings)
So today I swallowed my pride and went to seek forgiveness from my boss for my recent obnoxious behavior. Luckily he has known me for years, is quite fond of me (I think) and realizes my drawbacks (one of which is my being slightly unhinged). One of the blessings of working for the government is that your salary doesn't come out of your direct boss's pocket (Or his boss's either, for that matter). Bish always says I wouldn't last five minutes working for him, but I've been holding out quite well as a lowly civil servant for thirteen and a half years, obnoxious behavior and all.

I think I'm hooked on saying I'm sorry, so I pick fights so as to feed my addiction. The girls are used to it already. I yell, I say I'm sorry; I yell, I say I'm sorry. I think they quite like me nevertheless. Maybe it boosts their ego to know that they are so much better adjusted than I am. So fortunate that Bish's genes are more dominant than mine. Bish, by the way, is the only one who has succeeded in taming me to date, but it didn't come easy for him either. (Okay I realize a dependency on forever asking for the clemency of others is not actually the reason for my being a bad tempered pain in the neck, but there is a limit to what I am prepared to reveal on this blog).

Anyway, I celebrated the tension meltdown in my workplace with a very spicy toasted cheese sandwich. I asked Malka, the long-suffering vendor in our little kiosky place, to pile on the hot stuff, hoping it would have a positive effect on this awful cold I've got. It didn't. It just burnt my tongue and sent me running for those yummy lemon flavor B-12 tablets I take (I know, pretty pathetic).

Then a friend took me to her pharmacy and made me get a special potion the pharmacist there makes. Well talk about miracle cures, one swig and I felt much better. By the way, this will be my last post. I remembered too late that he had said one drop, not one swig. At least I'll die healthy - and forgiven.