05.28.03 - 3:03 p.m.

Dear Everyone:

(Author's note: if you think this applies to you, it likely does. However, Everyone here is capitalized and is used as an anthropomorphized Everyman sort of figure, though, obviously, more gender-inclusive. Now, on with the show.)

Don't put things on my chair. Don't say to me, "I'm just going to put this on your chair." I really, really, really, really hate that, and indeed, the frustration is enough to inspire hatred. Enough, in fact, to inspire foaming, teeth-gnashing, virulent hatred sufficient to distract me from aimless surfing (er. yeah: research) and actively open my diary and complain about it when I haven't written anything in my diary for twenty-two days. Yes: the hatred is enough to overcome whiny, slothful inertia and get me off my ass and into diaryland to complain about it.

Actually: I'm still on my ass. That's the problem with putting things in my chair. See? The chair is where I sit. I have a huge-ass desk right NEXT to the chair with much more surface space, and although that surface space is, indeed, taken up with plants, other work, eyeglasses cleaner, the computer, hand lotion, soda, water, three kinds of lip balm, an egg candle, radio, phone list, phone, more piles of work, several Monty Python videos, an aging birthday card, paper clips, post-it notes, a stapler and skin-so-soft spray-on lotion and, last but not least, kleenex (generic, mind you. because who would buy the real thing for other people to steal at work?) and an electric pump for my fountain, there is still, actually, more free space on my desk than there is on my chair.

Moreover, the free space on my desk is unlikely to be inhabited by my ass anytime soon. I do honestly not know how someone looks at this arrangement: chair. Desk. (Or, alternatively: desk. Chair.) and sees then CHAIR as the place to put some ordinary thing. Now, I understand why one would do that if one wanted an immediate answer, but this is all stupid, routine stuff! GOD. STOP IT. GO AWAY.

Also: when you say, "I'm just going to put this in your chair." and I say, in response, "Please put it on the desk instead," don't give me a weird-freaking look. Why are you putting things in my chair? Why is it weird that I would prefer crap OTHER than where I'm going to sit? Are you obsessed with me, or something?

I think this is a plague that affects not only me, but likely offices across the nation. Whatever you have for me? It's not urgent. Go away. DIE DIE DIE. I never ever do that to you, even when you're incredibly stupid inability to do your own work complicates my life. I just smile and redo. Because: we all make mistakes. But this is one mistake I don't want anyone else to make. Next time I see someone going for the chair instead of the desk (honestly! such reverse freakin' logic.), I am going to hit yer ass with a tazer. Capice?

Glad we understand each other.

Annoyedly yours,

Me