So, what a GOOD day. Today I love work. Today I love outside. Today I love flowers and bees and birds and caffeine... and I love my job. I'm having fun.

Here is me, shocked. Fun, you say? At work? I got to be outside, all day. I got to watch kids play in paint, and parents drink beer and people play music. And the sun burnt my face, and the wind tied my hair in knots. Today was a good day. And it's still going.

I am operating on exactly four minutes and 37 seconds of sleep. Give or take 3.7 hours. Apparently Cinco de Mayo celebration means everyone in Krista's apartment complex stumbles home at 3:12 a.m., screaming into cell phones (Oh my gawd, she totally followed us to the bar, and I'm like, Oh my gawd, slut, why are you here?), and stumbling up the stairs (or down?), and talking very loudly through my very thin walls (Dude, I'm so drunk. Dude. Dude, whoa). Fortunately, there was no fornication to be heard. Maybe it happened during the four minutes and 37 seconds that I was slumbering. Poor girl. Hee.

I went for a run today, too. I'm on a roll. Or a run. And because I'm operating on exactly four minutes and 37 seconds of sleep, I'm also doped up on caffeine. A 20-ounce caramel macchiato with four shots of espresso. Mmmm. Stick a needle into my veins, please. Keep the caffeine coming. And the caramel-ness.

I also just talked to a guy who has a two-headed quarter. Two heads. I don't know what president is even on the quarter, but this guy has two heads. Apparently, Guy With Quarter went shopping today and is all, "Yay, I have a new quarter." And then he flips it over and he's all, "Yay, my quarter has two heads." So he proceeds to call the newspaper, and I'm all, "Yay, a two-headed quarter. That's huge." And there you have it. Breaking news.

Speaking of quarters... So I'm walking home from work the other day, (Yes, walking. Next is tree hugging and shopping organic.), and I come across a shiny, new quarter. Heads up, by the way. But was it two-headed? I'll never know... Because as I went to scoop it up - BAM. It's glued to the concrete. Glued. To the concrete. I fell for it. I'm that person. Someone with a camera is probably sitting in a nearby tree, laughing at my gullible-ness, which is probably not a word, but it's my blog. Luckily, I swiftly vacated the situation, pretending I, uh, had to kneel on the ground for a purpose - not to, uh, attempt to pick up a quarter that was GLUED to the ground.

... and I'm rambling.

krittabug