Home and Headachy

It’s so good to come home after a trip, isn’t it? You get your own bed, you know where your things are without looking, you get your cat back…well, if you have a cat, of course. My mother took good care of Maggie while I was away, but was mightily pleased to be able to close her bedroom door at night again. Maggie can be very cuddly but also pesty about wanting to be fed. Tap, tap, tap. Paw to nose. Oh, you’re awake! How about feeding the cat? 

So being home feels good. Being back at work, not so much. Unfortunately, the report waiting for me was one of the worst kind we do, the ones that are 150 to 200 slides of absolute garbage in powerpoint, put together by people who don't understand the meaning of "consistency" (and not because their first language isn't English, though it isn't). They do a lot of these, and the reports are headaches waiting to happen. We all hate them, but when it's your turn, it's your turn.

Look, I don't need to win the whole PowerBall. No one needs one and a half billion dollars. But a few million, so I could retire? Is that asking so much? Please?