Zippee dee doo dah

So I just tried to call one of the new executives in another office, whom I've not yet met, only to discover that despite a very masculine name, the executive is a woman. Her "secretary" (who says "secretary" any more but tired old men anyway?) was very pissy with me when I said I had a call scheduled with "him." Come on, how many times does she have to correct people? Don't make me sound like the idiot.

I am drowning. I skipped TV last night to write, and spent three hours on the computer, churning out what felt like good writing. But when I finally crawled into bed, I couldn't sleep, needing that hour (quickly rolling into two) to unwind with the TV on before I could sleep. I'm really busy at work this week, too, so anticipate another late night tonight finishing up a story draft.

I wish I could drink coffee again.

(As I write this, yet another person is hanging on every word of the "how I got engaged this weekend" story, this time told within three feet of my cubicle. Turns out that the fiance is European, and the whole concept of having to ask her to marry him was foreign and awkward to him. I think I need to find me a European. Damn, I should have let my grandmother fix me up with that Dutch son of her neighbors.)