Top 10 Reasons Why I'm Captain Grouchy Pants Today...

10. My feet haven't been properly warm since Christmas. This could be because I live in an apartment with zero insulation.

9. The medical professionals have yet to find a way for me to have an IV of Diet Coke (and not have it kill me like the crazy nurse did with the patient in Brazil).

8. I don't want to like the new companion on Doctor Who but I do. I also don't want to like the new credits sequence or the new and improved inside of the TARDIS.

7. People who correct you just so they can sound superior (especially when they do it in front of your boss).

6. Procrastinators. I'm so sorry, but no, since you haven't even begun an application to our program, we can't admit you for a semester that begins on MONDAY.

5. My desk has become a dumping ground for files that advisers have yet to pick up for the coming semester. My desk is not big enough for this to go on much longer.

4. The creepy homeless guy who was practically living in my office over the weekend drank all of my remaining pomegranate 7-Up which is only sold at Christmas. And since it's no longer Christmas, I can't find any.

3. It's no longer Christmas.

2. Yoplait stopped making my favorite kind of yogurt.

And the number one reason that I'm Captain Grouchy Pants today....

1. Because I am an adult and as an adult, I don't get to stay in bed when it's negative eleventy billion degrees outside and drink hot cocoa and bond with the doctors of Grey's Anatomy or go on adventures with Amy, Rory and the Doctor or play office Olympics with Jim and Pam.

Now. Who do I speak to about quitting adulthood?

Yup, I'm THAT girl...

The above statement could apply to a myriad of things. Today these include but are not limited to:

-The girl who started a new job

-The girl who watched about 80 episodes of Friends this weekend during the Nick @ Nite marathon (Team Chandler, all the way)

-The girl who's little sister gave the most incredible farewell talk yesterday

-The girl who met the REAL Luna Lovegood tonight at IHOP in Centerville (you think I'm exaggerating? Not this time).

-The girl that most definitely did not sleep long enough this weekend

-The girl who made stellar cinnamon rolls for her little sister's farewell breakfast (I'm seriously fantastic. You should bribe me to make them sometime. If you're a cute boy, you just have to smile pretty and ask me out and I'll make them)

None of these things are actually what I was thinking about when I wrote the title of this post. 

Let me set the stage. 

Tonight Sara the Theatre Fairy, the Fantastic Charisse, and I made the trek up to Centerville to see "Little Women". A night of theatre combined with hanging out with two of my favorite people? Thank you, Monday. I'll take that. Anyway, back to the point. As with any show, there were some fairly attractive young gentlemen whom I was given the pleasurable task of watching on stage for a few hours. You wanna know what else didn't hurt? They were required to sing. I KNOW. Do you see that puddle on the floor at Centerpoint? Yeah. That's me. I'm writing this using a combination of telepathy and a sonic screwdriver that I borrowed from The Doctor. (Partially because I bawled my eyes out when Beth died. We all forgot tissues and I've never been more grateful for the fact that I wore a black long sleeved t-shirt). Pretty boys who sing? Yes, please. Another benefit of having completely awesomely, fantastical friends? They know EVERYONE. Including darling boys who's voices make my head involuntarily to one side. After the show, we're very casually hanging out in the lobby, just far enough away from the cast so as not to appear creepy (coughSuperfancough) but close enough so that said cute boys could see my big deal friends. That's what happens when you're short and not a theatre person. No one sees you. This is why you have tall friends. Anyway, I'm rambling again. You're reading this and wondering when I'm going to get to the point, aren't you? As well you should be. The point is this: I'm still THAT girl. The one who has a hard time putting together completely sentences when there's a moderately attractive guy around. What happened is this: Fantastic Charisse brings Super Cute Guy  over to talk to our completely awesome little group and instead of answering the question asked me by another friend ("Where do you work?") with the appropriate answer ("The grad admissions office at the business school at the U") it came out more like "Blergity blah mah shshshshshsh" and Sara the Theatre Fairy had to save me by providing the actual answer. She assures me that I didn't sound that ridiculous, but she wasn't in my head and it was all pretty much mush. Mostly because I could hear Fantastic Charisse whispering things about me to Super Cute Boy ("She works for the U business school and she's getting ready to start her masters in history") while he's kinda trying to break into the conversation. So yes. I'm still that girl who is twelve on the inside and can't form a coherent thought around anyone who has all the cookies.

If all else fails, at least I'm entertaining.

And they say I can't act.   

A collection of completely non-related things that I find completely interesting...

-On 10 May 1940 Winston Churchill became PM of Britain. Cool, no?

-The Avengers made over $200 million on their opening weekend. That just proves that my complete admiration is not misplaced. But just to double check, I'll be going to see it again with Alex on Saturday afternoon, with Liz (for historical research purposes) next week and again with Squeeg on my birthday (because who doesn't want to spend the day with both Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth as well as Jeremy Renner? A crazy person, that's who.)

-There are 17 days until my birthday. There are 52 days until Charisse gives up her ex-pat ways and finally comes back to the US of A for a good long while. This means that the First Annual David Tennant Appreciation Night can happen.

-Speaking of the fantastic Mr. Tennant, I've had two discs of Doctor Who sitting on my DVD player for almost two weeks. I can't bring myself to actually let it end.

-I'm completely head over heels for Benedict Cumberbatch after this week's episode of Sherlock. Let's be  honest: I loved him before, but this week we've moved into full blown obsession mode.

-One of my friends jumped about 10,000 points on my ridiculously awesome scale when he told me that he has Keeping Up Appearances on DVD. Eli McCann,  you are now definitely in the running for my favorite person.

-We're getting new art put in our office this week and I'm pretty much in love. I also think that everyone should come visit and see it. It's worth the drive.

- After chatting with some friends, I'm seriously considering opening my own Etsy store to sell my cards as well as offer my handwriting services. I feel that this could be a way to finance a trip to Europe. Thoughts?

Remember how I graduated last spring?

And remember how when you graduate the stress of final exams is supposed to be gone? Yeah, I did too. But the last two weeks have proved to be absolutely insane. Like off the charts. I feel like I'm living solely on Diet Coke. I have that finals haze hanging over my mind kind of insane. This is partly because I'm tutoring at the Burb again so I've been working an extra 4 hours each night after my regular job at the business school. Also? I'm in charge of helping plan graduation for the b-school. Which means that I'm pretty sure that before Friday my pretty little head is going to spin clean off my shoulders. I haven't felt this...manic? Insane? Exhausted? Wiped out? In desperate need of a day closed sunny room, with a pile of books and a cup of tea? In an extremely long long time. It's not that I hate either of my jobs. I actually quite like them both. I love my students (most of the time). I love getting to teach history on a daily basis. I like getting to 'administrate' and organize at my b-school job. I won't lie to you though: I'd like to have time to eat something more than cold cereal or sushi from the Smiths on 9th and 9th every day. 

So I'm begging you, dear readers. Tell me something lovely and wonderful. 

And go.

Side Effects of Being An Assistant...

First off, you all should know that I'm a horrible person. As long as we have that established, you can read on.

Because of my job, I attend a lot of meetings. I take notes. I bring coffee. I make copies. I give brilliant suggestions that make the entire room gasp in admiration and appreciation. (One of these things is not like the other...) Basically, I'm Pam from The Office, minus the whole Jim situation. Unfortunately.

Anyway, because I studied history, I'm a fantastic note taker. No joke. It's one of my superpowers. My last semester of school, I was paid to take notes in one of my classes. It was delightful. I basically got paid to go to class. But again, I digress. As I'm sitting in these meetings, (many of which are incredibly boring), I tend to people watch. I do this because I can take a minimal amount of notes and still recall most of what was said. (See? Superpower, baby!) In all of my observing, I've noticed that there are a few different kinds of meeting goers. For your express enjoyment, I will separate them into categories:

- The Bobble Head: This particular specimen is always a pleasure to observe. Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. This is the co-worker who is constantly nodding their head along with whomever may be speaking, constantly making earnest eye contact so as to make the speaker feel validated. Now, a nod every now and again to agree with a well chosen point is always a good thing. But a Bobble Head has a tendency to nod for the entire duration of the meeting. What is actually being said is of no consequence, a Bobble Head will continue to nod even if you suggest that Martians are going to take over the company and all human jobs will be outsourced to Jupiter. Resist the urge to hold their head still for them. It could lead to some awkward water cooler conversations.

-The Paper Shuffler: The Paper Shuffler or PS has a tendency, exactly as their identifier suggests, to unnecessarily move their papers around. And around and around. It has been suggested by professionals that if you have a PS in your midst it's a-okay to skip them when giving out the meeting's hand outs. You may want to conveniently run out of meeting agendas. It'll save you the time and the sanity.

-The Note Taker:  That guy who sits in the corner, furiously scribbling down every blessed word that anyone says (particularly the boss)? At times you wonder if you see smoke rising gently from underneath the tip of his pen? To be honest, you probably can. The Note Taker will probably be able to recite entire conversations after the fact. Unfortunately for him, it has nothing to do with a superpower. Be sure to have an extra writing utensil close at hand just in case the Note Taker's stops working. You wouldn't to deal with the meltdown.

-The Daydreamer: You know that girl who stares out the window the entire meeting? What? There's no window in your conference room? Okay, fine. A Daydreamer will stare at a blank wall. They also have the tendency to make comments completely unrelated to the current topic. Every now and again, you might want to bump their arm to keep them moderately engaged.

-The Fidgeter: Meetings that contain a fidgeter are particularly difficult for me. It takes all of the very small amount of self-control that I possess not the dive across the table and yank the pen, paperclip, small piece of paper or cell phone out of a figeter's hand and throw it across the room. That wouldn't cause much of a scene would it?

and last but not least...

-The Interrupter: This particular breed of meeting goer is among the most deadly. They make it incredibly difficult to get a word in edgewise and frequently starts sentences with "I did that last week" and "I think that somebody should get on that" or "I think that sending Mallorie to England is a lovely idea" (Okay, maybe not so much that last one). Often, the Interrupter (or Humanus Interruptus) will do their best to change the entire topic of discussion, bringing everything back to their "accomplishments" or "contributions". You may want to grab the Fidgeter's pencil and shove it in their eye. Do NOT resist this temptation. It will be for the good and  betterment of all.

Mea culpa...

Don't hate me. I know. It's been almost three weeks since I posted on my beloved blog. I know. I stink as a blogger. I'm REALLY sorry. Don't believe me? Well fine then. But it's true. Things in my neck of the woods have been busy lately. In a good way. You want to know what I've been up to? You sure? Alright. Here's my list:

What I, Mallorie Anne Mecham, have been doing instead of writing on my beloved blog:

*WORKING
*Going to Next to Normal at PTC (Um, it rocked my world).
*Getting an iPhone (his name is Captain Awesome)
*Hanging out at the Guild Store at Hale Centre Theatre
*Chillin' with  my madre and my sisters
*Planning this chicky's bridal shower
*Hanging out with Very Special Agent Anthony DiNizzo and the crew of NCIS(how have I not been watching this show for years?!)
*Reading these books (SO good)
*Watching replays from the BYU/Utah game (A Utah man, sir! A Utah man am I! [Good heavens,  my school song is so sexist!])
*Messing around on Instagram. (You should probably follow me. Because I'm a double dose of awesome.)
*Going to the symphony
*Drinking Pumpkin Smash Jamba Juices (Fall is back, my friends)
*Thinking about how I really need to write on my blog more often
*Pinteresting more than I should (I now need to be independently wealthy to afford all of the stuff that I am drooling over)
*Thinking that I should probably change up my blog design, but I have no idea how or what I want to do. (Hint hint...I'm open for suggestions)
*Reminding myself to love my neighbors (Freaking dog barking at 1 am....freaking power saw at 730 am on a Saturday. Who do these people think they are?!)
*Cleaning


And I'm now tapped out. But as you can see, I'm leading a very exciting life. :) I swear I'll try and do better...maybe. But only if you promise to comment on this very post and tell me how much you missed my sparkling wit and charming blog personality...

A quote...

Remember how I haven't had the plague in months? Remember how I was SO incredibly excited to realize this? Remember how Sara the Theatre Fairy and I were just commenting on how great it was that I hadn't been sick? And who comes down with the plague about 2:30 yesterday afternoon? You've got it right. This girl. This means that my energy is at an all time low so all I have for you, dear readers, is this brilliant quote:

Isn't that just a lovely thought? It also makes me want to burst out into "Do You Believe in Magic" by the Lovin' Spoonful, but I'll save your ears. Anyway, I'm off to create more Excel spreadsheets. Can I just say, I love getting paid to organize someone else's life? It's fab. 

Loves!

"You know the one thing that grown-ups don't call themselves? Grown-ups. They call themselves adults."

(Title courtesy of Lorelai Gilmore. She's brilliant.)

So remember how I didn't ever want to be a grown-up? Remember how I can't even stay dressed in the same outfit all day? Remember how I still watch the Disney Channel and how I listen to Selena Gomez? Remember how last night, when I heard a really weird noise in my house, I grabbed my cell phone and the scissors that were sitting on my night stand and walked around my house with the scissors in front of me like a weapon to be sure that there wasn't a rapist or a ghost hiding in my basement? Yes, I know that the scissors wouldn't have been helpful if there had been a ghost in my basement. I didn't have time to think clearly about the manner which would be best to protect me from a ghost. I'm sure 911 could have helped me with the ghost problem and the rapist wouldn't have stood a chance against my superior scissor skills. Anyway, the point of this little story is that I am clearly not a grown-up in any way, shape or form. But hold on to your hats, my dears, because guess who has two thumbs and just got herself a real grown-up job? That's right. This girl. Starting next Monday, I'll be a bona fide full-time employee of the David Eccles' School of Business at the University of Utah aka the secret government job that I had to have four interviews in order to be hired. I'm going to be working as an administrative assistant in the Career Services Center, which doesn't sound like a big deal, but trust me, it is. Mostly because I'm going to be doing it and anything I do is a big deal. Y'all have been reading my blog long enough to have learned that by now. Anyway, here's to being a grown-up. I have no idea how it'll work out. Stay tuned for updates...

Will the real blog slacker please stand up?

I'm standing. You probably can't see me because I'm a midget in a sea of giants. See my little hand sticking up? Yeah. There I am. This is my formal apology for not blogging in (wince) almost two weeks. Things have been a little busy lately. I had all of these grand plans to post the great American novel on my birthday, but the day got away from me, as it has tended to do lately. To be honest, I've been trying to spend less time on the computer and more reading, which has proved to be beneficial. But then, dear readers, I discovered this. I blame Amanda (because one always needs someone to blame in situations such as these.) I'm now completely addicted. I know I know. Put your judging eyes away please. I've also spent a fair amount of time looking for jobs. Yup, that's right. Looking for jobs. It's a long story. A long, boring story that I'm not in the mood to retell. All you need to know is that I'm still working at the stadium part time and will be until further notice. Do me a favor, dears? Pray that I find a job that I don't hate. Deal? I'll do anything ya'll want me to. Except shave my head. Or eat bugs. Actually, let's amend that statement. Not anything. You tell me what you want me to do and I'll see if it corresponds with my list of pre-approved bribes.

"Living is exhausting."

Rory Gilmore said it best. Living is exhausting. 

(Meg darling. Don't judge. I know you don't love that show, but I do.) 

And the last few weeks have been particularly tiring for so many reasons; most of which I am unwilling to discuss in detail in a public place because it's just awkward when people are WAY too personal. (Like when I hear people talking loudly about their medical problems when I'm on Trax on my way to work. I usually just turn the Biebs up a little louder to drown them out.) 

Today I was feeling particularly down. My boss was driving me nuts. My car was making a funny noise (again). It's hot. I could keep going, but honestly, it won't do any good at all. 

 Anyway,

there was a moratorium on the parking lot at work because we had an all day event; so instead of having to get up super early in the morning and ride the stinky train, I drove my little rust bucket to work this morning. This means that I actually get to leave campus for my hour lunch break. It's a novel idea. 

When that magical hour rolled around, I decided that in light of my crazy morning I deserved a little Rumbi in my life. For those of you who aren't familiar with Rumbi, I'm sorry for you. Go, grasshoppers, find out what it is. Thank me later.

So I'm in line at Rumbi and there are two very VERY large, exceedingly slow humans in front of me in line. Ordering a whole lot of food. 

From around one of the large people I see this tiny little hand go up in the air and a sweet little voice say, "Miss! I can help you over here!"

Walking around the other customers I come face to face with a a girl about my height, who smiles brightly at me and asks for my order. She was just so dang cheerful! I couldn't help but smile back at her and let her happiness rub off on me just a little. And then she told me about a frequent diner card. If you didn't already know this, I collect those. They're amazing. So she gave me two stamps, and very sincerely wished me a great day.  

Normally, I wouldn't think too much about this interaction except, "Dang, that girl deserved a raise. What a sweetheart." But today, my dear friends, today this meant something a little extra. 

Don't you just love those moments?

Sometimes...

...I crave chocolate chip cookies.

...I get a little too emotionally attached to characters in TV shows. (I *might* have cried a little when Rory told Logan that she couldn't marry him and when I found out Booth had a brain tumor.)

...I listen to the same song over and over again. Right now it's Renegade by Styx. Before that it was Sway Your Head by We Shot the Moon. I have an incredibly high tolerance for repeats. 

...I talk to myself. I never answer, but if I'm alone I definitely talk to myself.

...growing up sounds fun, other days I wish I could be a little kid again.

...I want to write novels.

...I don't read the whole book but still get an excellent grade on the book review which I wrote in a couple of hours for class.

...rain makes me happy.

...I sleep until the last possible second, even if it means that I look scary.com for school.

...I make up words. Mostly with Aubrie's help, slickery being one of our favorites.

...my mom says that I should start my own card making business. I love making thank you cards, invitations and birthday cards by hand.

...I wish I lived in a Jane Austen novel.

...I love mysteries. 

...I mock wedding announcements. Wollschy and I have joked about starting a business to tell people whether or not their announcements were ugly before they sent them out.

...I just wish that I could close my eyes have have life fast forward like it does in movies. Then I could skip all the parts that I don't like, just like I do in movies. 

...super amazing things happen while I'm at work. Case in point: Today, I'm working a super fancy, shmancy event. They have a display of White House china from many of the Presidents of the United States. Not only did I get to see that, but when I told the guy who owns the collection that I'm  a history major, he pulled a small blue box out of his pocket. From the box, he pulled out a silver chain. He told me, "Now just as a chain that means nothing. But when I tell you that this is the watch chain that the Prophet Joseph Smith gave to his brother Hyrum, that Hyrum wore to Carthage, it means something." I just stared at the chain in my hand before handing it back. "That's real history," he said.

Sometimes...

...I worry when I'm walking down the stairs that I'm going to twist my ankle. I know that it's completely irrational, but I've done it so many times that I'm always worried that I'll do it again.


...people call my desk and ask for John Huntsman. He's the US Ambassador to China, so let me just transfer you right on over to Beijing.


...I remember that my job is 1200 times better then most people's jobs.


...I am fed lunch at work. (Like the past 2 days, we've had catered events by two of my favorite caterers. Huzzah for not eating campus food.)


...I spend 14 hours on campus. (Case in point: Today I had to work both my jobs, go to class and a study session. This is not in any way a complaint, solely an observation.)


...I walk and read. I was doing this very thing this morning on my way to the Trax station.


...I dye my hair kinda crazy colors. Right now I'm on a brown and red kick. It's more of a violet red then actual red. I love it.


...my sister and I talk to each other in movie quotes and it's amazing.


...I spend entirely too much money buying books on Amazon. I need to attend a support group.


...I wear black. (Okay, all the time. Karlie says she's going to send me to a support group for that and argyle. I maintain that I can stop any time I want.)


...I read TV blogs when I'm bored at work.


...I twirl my hair when I'm nervous. This is why my hair is so thin. I yank it out.


...I just want to run and hide underneath the covers on my bed instead of dealing with the real world. No, I'm not 4 years old anymore, but I have days where I wish I was.


...I blog stalk.

A Jamie Cullum Kind of Day...

First off, if you're wondering who Jamie Cullum is, I'm sad for you. I had the fortune of being introduced to him by a dear friend of mine who had spent time in Britain and is a far bigger deal then I will ever be. Jamie Cullum is a British jazz artist that I love and adore. Today was the perfect day to listen to his lovely voice, crooning in my ear as I rode the train, walked to class, waited for class to start, tried to drown out the voice of that girl who sits next to me in my Roman history class that always seems to offer too much information about her own life and sat at the computer at work answering phone calls about the upcoming U2 concert. It's finally sunny outside, which is fabulous. I would have had an excellent day anyway (even though it's Monday) but Jamie just made it that much better. 

In which I get an incredible surprise...

Today was a THNGVB day. You think I'm kidding? Oh really, I'm not. This morning, I dumped an entire fountain drink on myself and the floor of an auditorium type classroom which means the liquid rushed to the front, soaking all things in it's path. Then I proceeded to drop my breakfast on the ground, rendering it inedible. After all of that loveliness, when I was finally able to feed myself (before I pulled an "Alive" and started eating my own hand), I dropped a piece of bagel slathered in cream cheese on my black shirt. Not exactly what I was going for when I got dressed this morning. If you think this is the end of my tale you are sadly mistaken. As I am walking in a very ladylike manner RUNNING down the stairs at the library on my way to work, I twisted my ankle. Being a total klutz, I should be used to that, but it hurt and now I'm limping. As I am sitting at my desk at the stadium, trying not to cry I kept thinking how I really just wanted to talk to a certain friend of mine and then I notice that my phone was ringing. Here's where I will give you a little background. I have a wonderful, amazing, incredible friend. Her name is Jalayne Orr Krieger. Basically, she's my own personal angel sent from heaven to make the my world a better place. Anyway, when I answered the phone the first thing I hear is "I love you." And of course, being me, I start to cry. And then Jalaynie starts to get a little teary and told me how she was having a terrible day and almost called me at 6 AM (which is not advisable, no matter who you are unless you want your head chewed off. I love me some sleep). The most lovely surprise is that her fabulous husband, Lucas, has to be in Salt Lake all day next Saturday and she is going to play with me!! My THNGVD turned right around. It was one of those moments where I remember how very blessed I am...

Have yourself a merry little Monday...

As a rule, I usually don't care for Mondays all the much but today is the first day of my official winter break and where am I spending it, you ask? Well, on the 6th floor of Rice-Eccles Stadium of course. See, there are lots of reason why I love my job, but one of them is the fact that since I'm working today and NO ONE is in the office, I can kinda do whatever I want. I've already checked all the holds, returned all the messages, checked my email, and about a million other little things, so until someone decides to call us up and ask questions, I'm on my own. It's a foggy morning and you can't even see the scoreboard outside the window behind me, let alone the parking lot outside the one in front. It's better than a cloudy day because my office is still light. I have all the shades pulled up on the windows and the heater going. There's a whole bag of Cadbury Christmas eggs on my desk and all in all, life is good. Here's to having myself a merry little Monday.

Mallie and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day...

You heard it here first my friends. Today fit into the THNGVB (short for: terrible, horrible, no good, very bad) category. This particular category was created when I was about 7 and my mom read me a book with a very similar title. I adored it. After that, when I'd have 'one of those days', my mom would say something about it being terrible, horrible, no good and very bad. By the end she could always get me to giggle about it. Mostly just using all of those adjectives to describe one day makes me giggle. Anyway, let's fast forward about 17 years to today. I will not give you all the sordid details that contributed to my THNGVB day, but here's a few highlights: having to pay for parking, locking my keys in my car and being stuck in the rain, grouchy people, a 7ft tall basketball player that is positive that President Obama wants to nuke us all but has NO interest in actually learning what I'm being paid to teach him, wet feet, MATH. But see, this is the thing. At the end of my favorite bad day book a couple of good things happen, so I would be remiss if I didn't add those to my story as well: a room full of 4th graders and one overworked 4th grade teacher that were overjoyed to see me, 4 more hours a week at the tutoring center, Becky giving me a full bag of M&Ms after locking my keys in my car, the same overworked 4th grade teacher driving up to the stadium in the rain to bring me my spare key and coming home knowing that my homework was practically done so I could enjoy 30 Rock. I guess every gray cloud has a silver lining.

Life without the internet...

Just so you know...life without the internet sucks. Hence the lack of updates on my fabulous life. Don't worry. Karlie and I ordered it today. Updates and pictures to come. I know you're all waiting with baited breath.

A case of the Mondays....

Today, I have the Mondays. This week is looking pretty darn hectic and I'm quite tempted to put my head under the pillow -ostrich style-and not pull it out again until Saturday when it's safe. There are oh so many things that I feel like need accomplishing this week and oh so little time to do them in. You see, this is moving week. On Saturday morning I'm going to be moving up to Salt Lake to start working at Rice Eccles Stadium and to go to the U in the fall. While I am incredibly excited to start this new phase, the idea of getting everything in Provo tied up and put away is daunting. And add to that the fact that the apartment complex that I manage is chaning management. So while I'm techincally employed by the old management company, I am doing certian things to help the new management company get settled in. That feels a bit like what I would imagine a child of divorce feels; one parent pulling on each arm trying to get them to agree or be on their side. Not a comfortable feeling. Here's to hoping my case of the Mondays doesn't stick around all week...