I am in love...

With my cleaning people.
Its official. Any trepidation, concerns, class-war type feelings have been put to rest.
There is nothing better than walking into your home at the end of the day and seeing that your baseboards have been cleaned, the inside of your microwave was cleaned, the WINDOW SILLS wiped off.
Glorious.
Glorious is the word.

In fact, I got so excited, that I jumped up from my couch after surveying said glory, and promptly rammed my toes into my coffee table. At first, I thought -- OW! -- and it would go away. When I woke up this morning and I had a small sausage instead of a middle toe, I decided it might be a bigger deal than that. I am off to the Dr's. Now, I know that there is nothing that they can do for a banged up toe except to tape it to the next one. Really what I am shooting for is a Dr's note that gives me permission to wear flip-flops in direct defiance of our corporate dress policy.
STICK IT TO THE MAN.
That is what I say.

Other than that nothing new.
Not even listening to anything as this is the first more-than-5-minutes I have spent at my desk all day.