Seriously, how much can I take? The A/C in our offices is still not fixed. Today the excuse is a leaky compressor. They are supposed to work on it tonight when they can turn off what little air is blowing (not on our side of the building, clearly) and get 'er done. I have a headache and I'm so sleepy. I have so much to do, but it's impossible to feel productive with sweat rolling down into your cleavage. Current temperature in my office is 87 degrees. I'm leaving. I don't care what hasn't gotten done.
Oh, and now Blooey, my co-worker's Betta, is experiencing some fin damage. I took all my recently acquired knowledge of Betta health and helped her. Hopefully, he's on the road to recovery. He hasn't been the same since his neighbor, a lovely white Betta whose name was either Truitt, Michael, or Whitey depending on whom you asked, committed suicide by leaping out of the tank. Sarah apparently hadn't been told the "put a lid on it" rule. (Blooey used to go by names like Pablo and Prince, but Blooey seems to have stuck--on account of him being blue, of course. And the double o's are inspired by the bubbles he blows.)
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