Mu shoo, anyone?

Chaos!

That's what the last three days have felt like. It all started Wednesday morning mere minutes after arriving at work. The office ladies were all aflutter about something while I was putting my things away and turning on my computer. Turns out there was a gas leak somewhere either in our building or the neighboring building, so we took it upon ourselves to evacuate. What's slightly disturbing is that there was no official evacuation order, even though you could clearly smell the problem, six fire trucks surrounded the building, and the street was blocked off at both ends. We spent the morning at Starbucks, which left only two hours of office time to empty my deadline-riddled inbox before leaving for an overnight work conference in Anaheim.

The conference, to make a long story short, was hectic and poorly organized. I was working at our department's book sale table, which was located out in a hallway that might as well been the North Pole, what with the continual blast of air conditioning and the Christmas music set on an hour-long loop. We were out there for about 10 hours, so please forgive me if Feliz Navidad is not my favorite song of the season anymore. Plus, the not-redecorated-since-1983 hotel was kind of icky, so I didn't sleep too well (I don’t like finding someone else’s hair on my pillow) and had to be up at 5:30 a.m. to set up.

Needless to say, I was pretty excited to get home last night. There was a ton of traffic, and I was starving, so I called in a request for Chinese delivery to N, who promptly fulfilled my wish. Per my request, he asked for a full order of mu shoo pork. Now, I don't want to stereotype or place the blame on anyone in particular, but when our food arrived, it contained four orders of mu shoo pork. Mmmm, accidental pork.

Now I'm back at work and can't get excited about proofreading the fast food nutrition guide we're publishing. Luckily, someone's 3-year-old grandson was visiting, so we had a nice little chat. He told me about his black and white cat and asked me if I had one. I said, no, mine was striped with white feet. The kid's jaw literally dropped as if that was the most amazing thing he'd ever heard. Ah, preschoolers. If only the rest of the population was so easy to impress.