In Which Dorothea and I Become Tipsy and Go to the Aquarium
This story goes pretty much as it sounds. I met Dottie down at our previous dungeon of employment for lunch with Dora. Dot had to go upstairs, while I wisely waited downstairs. Nearly four months later, they have finally hired someone to replace me, and the poor girl was forced to begin her employment by taking notes at a daylong meeting. Lovely.
Sidebar: [In a roundabout way, I have managed to affront the Director of Development (or should I say, the Director of Thumbs Up Butts) two days running. I saw him sitting inside a Starbucks on Sunday. Though I clearly saw him, I was surprisingly able to keep my face neutral as I passed by. I was kind of expecting spontaneous projectile vomiting, but that didn't occur. Then yesterday, Dora mentioned to him that she was going out to lunch with Dottie and I, and that he was not invited. Lovely.]
After lunch, Dorothea and I turned up at the Aquarium along with a Nalgene full of caiperina. We got tipsy and were loudly grossed out by a lungfish eating. It was actually really cool. We stood there forever. Great sadness at the Shedd, though, my best friends, the cuttlefish, no longer have an exhibit. They have no cephalopods at all anymore in the free bits. Very disappointing. Dottie and I spent most of our time discussing our upcoming business, where we work for ourselves to prevent our continual rebellion against foolish authority.
I kind of feel bad that a trip to the Shedd encouraged me to eat sushi, but if there’s one thing I can’t fight it’s my body’s drive toward sushi. It was a very enjoyable day.
In sadder news, dear Sylvester, the more robust of my hermit crabs, died this morning. Actually, I think he died yesterday or the day before. My thought that he was kind of hibernating appears to have been incorrect.
I was inordinately creeped out by his corpse, and made Eric throw him in the bin. His claw fell off. I can’t deal with corpses that have random bits falling off. I can’t fight that either. Sylvester died as he lived, with probable misery. I feel bad for his sister, who now has to endure her misery without company. Luckily, Molly didn’t like him that much anyway.
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