In which our hero is the victim of curuel, cruel fate...

I had the whole of this week booked off. It was to be a glorious week of vegetative relaxation, (with possibly a little bit of decorating).

Then some helpful soul booked a meeting in my work diary, telling me that it was absolutely essential that I attend and absolutely impossible to reschedule. So, being the thoughful, dedicated person I am, I cancelled one of my precious days off so that I could be here for the meeting.

So I dutifully got up this morning (against my sleep-gland's better judgement) and struggled into the office. It was really really cold this morning and the heaters on the bus didn't work.

My reward, you ask, for my dedication to the job? Well I'll tell you.

The meeting has been cancelled. Because one of the attendees couldn't make it. Apparently they phoned round last night to let everybody know - except me, of course. I found out when I opened my work e-mail this morning. So I'm in the office when I should be on holiday.



You may post your condolences and sympathetic messages below...

(by the way... I drew that one on a post-it note at my desk... hence the general yellowness)