earlier this morning, one of the aunties that works in my office came into my cubicle, carrying a stack of files. distracted by some other piece of inane advice that i was constructing, i assumed she had arrived to add to my (gargantuan) backlog of work.

inwardly, i cringed. outwardly, i articulated my learned opinion on the new issues in my most collected and professional manner - "nooooooooo." given that screams and curses seemed to be having no effect, i turned to face this nefarious harbinger of drudgery with a black stabilo liner 808 f ballpoint pen grapsed tightly in my clenched fist. this was an attempt to portray what i hoped was a demeanour sufficiently menacing to dissuade her from reaching my in-tray. i have been blessed with numerous and varied talents. stocism is not one of them.

turns out she was just bringing me old files that she had dispatched for me.

"you're not bringing me new work. i like you very much."

i told her.

about five minutes ago, this aunty sauntered up to my cubicle, asking me where my neighbour was. i told her. she made as if to leave. then she stepped back into the entrance of my cubicle, clasped her hands behind her back, swayed one hip to the side and told me :

"i like you too."

unnerving.

and more so, was an incident over lunch yesterday. i was rather tired, both mentally and physically, due to a combination of various unfortunate and unpleasant circumstances. such as having to wake up for work; having to drive to work; having to do work at work; etc. one of my colleagues (priapus, you may remember him) asked me :

"so you went for a wedding on sunday?"

he had read my blog entry about the wedding. now that i've had some time to think about it, this wasn't a very intelligent question on priapus' part, as he obviously knew the answer. but kudos to him for the effort.

"yes,"

was my reply. then came a pause, while i thought about how i could further elucidate on what, in isolation, was a rather unsociable reply. the pause grew longer, but my customary repartee had been enervated by the sapping qualities of the work i do. in the end, i am ashamed to say, the best i could come up with was :

"my friend got married."

not very bright. and on second thoughts, not something that makes for a very good story either.

but, this post was made for its own artistic merit. no such self-indulgence for these words of wisdom. no, i answer to a higher calling. this entry was to convey to you, gentle reader, a higher philosophy, an epistemological breakthrough.

much like one of aesop's fables, just far more sophisticated. to draw an analogy, it would be as if aesop's fables were potatoes. sufficient for plebian activities like slinging at politicians, but rather too unrefined for the true connoiseur. my story, on the other hand, is like a basket of french fries, perfectly crisp on the outside, moist on the inside, and smothered with cheese and chilli con carne. with mayo on the side. delectable.

the moral of the story, then, is that work sucks, as does the beginning of the work week. God grant us all strength.