Inter-Office Spies and Job Interviews

Woke up on the floor of the lounge this morning, my legs were completely dead because HarryPotter was curled up across them like a dog. I reached over and shook him. He rolled over, and I stood up. Or I tried. My legs were asleep, I completely collapsed and wacked my cheek on the arm of the sofa. Which made a hell of a racket, partially because I screamed bellbottomed obscenities when I hit the side of the sofa. HarryPotter jumped up in a panicked daze wanting to know what happened. I yelled that I fell and hit my face, and then started crying like a little girl who skinned her knee. I knew that my cheekbone had just shattered, the skin was ripped open and the sofa indent looked like a zombie attack. Fuck that fall hurt.

HarryPotter sat me down and looked at my swollen face. He said it was a bit red, but I’d ‘live’. Thanks. I cried some more, sobbed actually, like a child, and said ‘ButithurtsandIthinkIbrokemyfaceandIhavemyinterviewandIlook

HarryPotter leaned over, came very close to my face and said, ‘Shall I kiss it and make it better?’ I closed my eyes and breathed in; HarryPotter’s lips brushed lightly across my burning cheek. I could feel his breath across my ear, and I kept my eyes closed. I turned my head slightly towards him waiting for the next… 

‘Well, get up. You’re fine.’

I opened my eyes and HarryPotter was already walking into the kitchen. I had officially been dejected. Last night after I posted, I couldn’t fall asleep. I tried and I tried but I couldn’t. I finally came back into the lounge where HarryPotter was watching telly. I flopped down next to him saying, ‘Can’t sleep.’

He said, ‘Neither can I.’ So we decided to play Scrabble. We both fell asleep instantly on the floor, where we stayed until this morning.

After being dejected by the kiss this morning, I followed him into the kitchen; he was making us a bowl of cereal each. I noticed he had the letter ‘D’ stuck to his face. I reached over and picked off the Scrabble tile and put it on the kitchen counter.

I really want the job I’m interviewing for today, but I could easily settle into HarryPotter domesticity – provided I’m not arrested for a crime I didn’t commit.

He decided to take the day off, but I asked him to go into work despite the fact everything was going down the crapper, because I needed him to be my spy. Boobs may not be up to anything, but I still needed to know what was going on. I needed him to ket me know if there was any word on Goatee and NFEditor. Has MNM done anything about this? What have the police done?

I clapped my hands and shouted ‘Chop, chop into the shower. You need to get to work.’ 

HarryPotter is finally out the door and I need to get dressed, prepared, and cover up the bruise on my face turning a yellowed purple before my lunch interview. I’m nervous as hell about how to handle ‘the sacking’, but I’ll have to mentally sort that out while I’m getting ready. Ack, so time to log off, too much to do today.

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