In case you were wondering how to make me die.

It's been a hazy work week, what with having been out of the country for a week on my magical honeymoon and such. Coming back to work after a nearly two-week vacation was a lot like turning on the garbage disposal while you're hand's in it.

It doesn't feel good. And also it's kind of bloody.

So I've been pushing my way through the week, struggling to make things happen to the best of my ability. Working is not like riding a bike. I forget how when I haven't done so in a while. It's also hard to work when the only thing on your mind is becoming a stay-at-home mom. For The Cats. Or maybe a mime. I haven't decided. Whatever. Details.

Anyhow, that said, I'm pretty positive my respective authoritative figures want to throw me out the window and replace me, perhaps, with a monkey. Who is likely more productive. So when I get an email from my boss this afternoon that clearly states, with no explanation, "I need to talk to you about something extremely important before you leave today," my heart, it actually stopped beating.

In fact, my lungs quit pumping oxygen. And I died, right there. Just like that. Poof.

Within seconds, my mouth started watering like I was going to puke, much the way I get when there's a butterfly within 10 yards of me, and my armpits began to sweat. I hit reply, and typed, calmly, "I can do that."

Then, nothing. No response. No explanation. Just me and my fear of eminent unemployment. So my hands are shaking and I've completely lost the ability to think. I felt my heart beating in my throat. Or maybe that was puke, I'm not sure. And suddenly I saw a reply.

This is it, I told myself. I'm a goner.

"And if you're wondering, it's about proper care and maintenance of shins," he said.

Blink. Blink-blink. What?

I believe my reply was simply a question mark, to which he said he recently took up running and had sore shins. No, he wasn't about to fire me. Ha. Ha, ha. It's just his shins! Stupid girl!

And despite the fact that he does have some authority to terminate my employment, but because he's otherwise cool as Hell, the color returned to my face, I wiped my vomit off the floor, and said, "Jesus H. Christ, don't do that!"

And he laughed. And I didn't get fired today, in case you were wondering.