I Just Want Someone to Really Listen to Me
Sometimes I think God doesn't want me to have my tarot cards read. Last time I saw my tarot lady she pointed to a card with a troll digging a suspicious hole and told me that, above all else, I'd like to obtain an office chair with proper lumbar support, but the weather never cooperates so I settle for the fold-away. "I don't have a fold-away office chair," I muttered, but she was ignoring me. She was too focused on the cards, in my opinion. What I actually wanted was someone to really listen to me. The lumbar support is fine, see, I'm just tired having the left armrest fall to the floor every time I reach under the desk for my booze thermos. Also, I think someone else in the office found my booze thermos, because the intruder-indicator string I hide under the cap was missing this week, and I swear that my Hennessy tasted like the Miracle-Gro stuff we use on the office plants.