nobody told me that

Yesterday was a long day. I couldn't help but remember that it was the first day of school, and while I might rather put out my eyes than begin another year of drama in Kato town, it would have felt pretty good to get back to a familiar job and put in hours whenever I felt like them. Yesterday was one of those days where you get about six hours' worth of solid work done and you're like, "Okay, I'm fucking brain dead, can I go home and watch television now?" and instead your job says, "No. You owe me another hour and a half."

So I dig up some work to do and find myself proofing some old newsletter articles written by the woman whose leaving provided me with a job. And I'm trying not to judge in my third week but there's some pretty dumb copy floating around in these articles. I know that little newsletter articles on creating a birth plan aren't inherently challenging, but we also don't need to "spice up" some sentence with the addition of a completely fucking random semicolon, do we?

Anyway: it's 3:30, I want to go home, I'm punchy as all hell and the office is quiet. And then I come across the sentence "After the baby is born, how do you plan to feed him or her?"

I los it. I mean I was laughing so hard (silently, thank god) that I was crying. I mean, how do I plan to feed the baby? What are my options? Can I use one of those big metal meat forks from the grill utensil set, or can I regurgitate some food into the mouth of a tiger and have the baby eat it from there, or, most importantly, I HAVE TO FEED THE BABY? CHRIST! NOBODY SAID I'D HAVE TO FEED THE BABY! WHAT THE FUCK!