Well, not really. I know it'll sound like blasphemy to some, but I can't stomach Miller, or Bud, or PBR. Don't hold it against me. Tonight, after having my ass handed to me for three days in a row at work (funny how this part time gig is just not the reality I thought it would be), I'm settling in to have a Leine Oktoberfest brew while I watch game one of the World Series. I used to be a Sam Adams Oktoberfest type of gal, but I've switched loyalties. Since the Giants have already hit a home run and drawn first blood, I fear I'm not long for this game, or this world. I'll likely be in Slumberland even before my beer is finished.
Work has been, well, crushing. It wouldn't be half bad if the schedulers could put their heads together, actually speak to one another, and share information. They've pulled me all over town for two weeks in a row now and I'm a bit fed up with people who cannot listen, read or utilize critical thinking skills. I've never met a more dysfunctional set of people who all do one job for different territories. No one speaks to anyone else and each seems to operate in a vacuum. Hello, people! Ever heard of team work?
That was a rhetorical question.
And speaking of crushing...while walking through the house while removing my sweater, I extended my left hand with fingers in flexed position, and walked into a wall hand first. I smashed my left index finger, which while not broken or dislocated, is swollen and bruised and really angry at my klutziness. Of course it's the finger I use to carry and tension my yarn, so knitting is out for a few days.
Oy. The Tigers are not looking so great, and the Giants, who should be exhausted, are red hot tonight. We're getting skunked.
A do-over for this day would be nice.