And Then? I Melted.

Actually, I'm sitting at my desk in a sweater. Because it's cold here under the vent, even if it is 1,000 degrees outside. Oh sorry, 92. Which, if you've been in Southern California for the last week, is pleasant. Summer weather like this is the one thing I truly can't stand about living in LA. I swear my flip flops were melting into the pavement over the weekend. Someone in my office likened it to a frigid January day on the East Coast - everything is closed up tight, you run from one place to another as fast as you can, and instead of cranking the A/C, it's heat.

Somehow I wish that were the case. I'd rather be freezing.

I'm also working on the starvation diet, evidently, as I missed lunch once again and will be thoroughly chastised about it this evening so maybe I'll conveniently forget to mention it. I'm ready to scrounge through what's left of the bagels from this morning's staff meeting, and that's pathetic because I don't even eat bread that isn't hot and covered in butter. (We have no microwave nor toaster right now)

Obviously, writing a paper about the Chowhound discussion board is not helping. Not that I'm doing that, because I have to actually WORK around here, although I seem to be caught in a holding pattern because everyone I have to speak with is otherwise occupied. So here I am with half written statements of work and part of a document naming system and a masterplan matrix that I have to starting pulling documents for but need to sit with someone before I can start.

I need a sandwich.