Port 1940 - Two Days Down

I feel better today than I did yesterday.  I am slowly recovering from this horrible cold and flu that has made me sick for most of the month.   Newbie has gone back to barely giving me the time of day.  He rests in a box atop my computer desk as I type these humble words.  The box used to contain chicken breasts.  I am thinking that there is a lingering odour of chicken pieces in the box after all these years.  Newbie has to curl up into a little ball to fit in the box.  Weirdest thing I've ever seen.

People at work are making fun of my hair.  I'll fire up my webcam so that you can see what it looks like, right now.

Yikes!  Scary stuff, huh?

I subscribe to the theory that because I am in a union, they can't fire me unless I kill someone or threaten someone more than once or breach a trust or something.  Nobody ever said anything about my hair.  If  I want to walk around looking like Tintin's dad, I can and  I will.  Frig you.

I mean, I promise that I will be stepping into the shower shortly.  I will wash and dry my hair and put some of that gel in it that holds the body in place.  By tomorrow afternoon, it will start to curl upward and give people the impression that I have been frightened by something.  I haven't been.  It's just the way my hair rolls when it gets a certain length.  Don't judge me.  I can't help it.

I will try to look presentable at work tomorrow, but remember, they can't fire me, so no promises!

See you tomorrow.

Bevboy