I was halfway across the garage when our baby nephew Connor's present started talking to me from inside the bag.
This is how my drink ended up on the garage floor.
That was a surprise. I was on the schedule to come in at 9 this morning, but since I got done shopping sooner than expected, I attempted to call my coworker (the bad one. The good one is on vacation today.) to let her know I'd be in by 8:30 at the latest. I tried her back line. I tried her front line. Repeatedly. The after hours message kept coming on. I left a message for my supervisor so he wouldn't be panicking since I now suspected I'd be flying solo today, that I would be there soon. I got here and confirmed, yes, Virginia, she did in fact call in sick.
You know, it doesn't surprise me, but if she wanted to take the day off, she should have taken the day off rather than bailing last minute. Now, if you don't know the story of my coworker, don't jump to judge me here. I'm sure she's sick. You know, sort of like how I'm sure Joan Rivers has never had plastic surgery.