"You're on something."

Today was just another day of work, work, work. I was up at 7 am to fight traffic yet again. Oh well. . . gives me time to think. I get to work and get started. So many e-mails, so little time. I know I've said it before. . . but I am sooo over this week. There is this cute new guy, but I am totally over him. He's hot, but he's got strikes against him.
 
Strike#1 -- He's Georgian.
Strike#2 -- He's super religious.
Strike #3 -- He's 20 years old. (Dos might like 'em young, but I don't. . . at least, not anymore)
Strike #4 -- His name is Jason. (I don't do "J" names. . . at least, not anymore)
 
He is hot, though, and he can sing. Oh well. I'm not having it. I've been working too hard. The day passed rather uneventfully. I did a ton of e-mails (like I always do). I also got pissed off at my coworker, Wendy. Apparently, it's unfair to start giving prizes to the most productive people. Whatever, she's just pissed that she'll never, ever get one.  We all also discuseed the possibility of another e-mail-a-thon. They say they've barely recovered from the last one.
 
Me: I am totally up for another e-mail-a-thon.
Dwight: Yeah, but you're on something. I want whatever you're taking before the next one.
Me: Don't worry, I'll hook you up. I'll have my guy call your guy.
 
I was planning on working till 9 tonight. However, I felt like a migraine might be coming on, so I left at 7, my usual time. Leaving while it's still daylight. . . what a concept. And I've felt this migraine coming on for the last 2 weeks. I wish it would just get here, debilitate me, and leave me alone. I fought traffic, came home, finished off the turkey chili, watched TV, and did the dishes. Now I'm going to bed. I'm exhausted and I need a good nine hours of sleep.