Neighbors
Someday, I will have no neighbors. I will be dead, but I will have no neighbors. And God will finally explain to me why I was punished so harshly in this lifetime by such horrible, horrible people. I like to think that He will tell me it was all a gift. That once I stopped crying and screaming and cutting and praying and drinking and eating M&Ms and pulling my hair out over each one of these yayhoos, I found the humor. I was given hours of hilarious conversations and for those, He will remind me, I was grateful. Then, He will show me to my new fluffy cloud with nothing but blue skies for miles and miles in any direction. And all will be forgiven. Not forgotten. But forgiven.
First off, let me point out that I am a nice person. People say it a lot. In fact, someone said so just yesterday. ‘Course she’s 82, and I was doing her a pretty big favor, but still. Nice. Me. This post does not support this fact, but lightning be damned, here we go.
Contractors and freelancers who work on-site are usually given whatever cubicle is empty. It’s a no-brainer. Thing is though, that the cubicle is always empty for a pretty darn good reason: it’s next to THE most heinous person in the office next to whom no full-time employee will sit.
As a contractor and freelancer, I have sat next to some real yayhoos in my day, but it’s always the current one that I think I’ll remember most.
Her name is Miss Honey.
