Recently obtained information:

Pretzel Goldfish taste exactly like…wait for it…PRETZELS.  I’m not sure what I was expecting exactly, Goldfish with a pretzel-y flair maybe.  Or maybe something akin to those weird two-sided Townhouse crackers.  But alas, no.  Simply pretzels shaped like Goldfish.  Sad.

The combination of a hot-pink sticky note on top of the ugly bright yellow folders we are using for FY2009 is almost more than my retinas can bear.  Note to self:  find a different color Post-it pronto, or else you are going to have to find a pair of those huge sunglasses that old people wear after visiting the eye doctor.

Tide-to-Go pens work remarkably well against a coffee stain on a white shirt.  I was shocked and pleasantly surprised.  Particularly since the coffee stain in question was located in a strategically unfortunate spot on MY white shirt.

Knowledge I’ve had for a while, but feel the need to periodically revisit:

No matter what policies are revised or e-mails are sent out, some people are totally oblivious or possibly just assume that said regulations do not apply to them.  THE DRESS CODE, PEOPLE.  Embrace it.  Or at the very least, BUY A MIRROR.  Actual written policies aside, why would anyone ever, ever think that it is okay to wear ugly cotton stretchy pants (that are about 3 inches too short) with a TANK TOP to work?  And beachy-looking athletic sandals, to boot.  PLEASE.  I am pleading with my coworkers to stop the insanity.  If we just work together maybe we can rid the workplace and the world at large of this atrociousness FOREVER.

When I am not busy at work, I am not motivated to do ANYTHING.  So the laundry piles up, as does the paperwork and junk on my kitchen counter.  We are drowning in toys and probably pet hair, and the front hall badly needs to be swept and mopped after last Friday’s rainstorm.  Thankfully my cleaning lady/girl/person/Megan comes tomorrow.  She went on vacation so we’re a week behind schedule and it is sadly obvious.  I’ll have to pick up some of the mess tonight so she isn’t horrified by the squalor.  (It really isn’t that bad – I don’t think – but it is definitely far worse than usual.)

I am really, really bad with coming up with endings to posts.  Consequently they often seem unfinished, as if maybe I was kidnapped right in the mid-