Today is notable for two reasons: first of all London was officially as hot as the surface of the sun, and secondly, because it marks the seventh anniversary of me starting work at my current job.
Which is kind of bloody scary, because basically I've dedicated more time to this job than to any other part of my life. Shit! I've spend pretty much a quarter of my life there!
The more I think about it the more scary/worrying that is, because I don't like the idea of being stagnant doing the same ol' thing day in, day out - which I've begun to think I may be... But then again, where else could I spend my days writing captions such as 'Lt. Commander Geordi La Forge is perplexed by the intermittent flux irregularity in the starboard plasma conduits'?
It's the seven year itch, I tells ya!
All concerns about work aside, today sort of passed me by quite well... aside from a phone call from my Nemesis. He rabbited on for about 10 minutes about a subject that had nothing whatsoever to do with work, then said "why did I call you again?"
"I don't know," I replied, doing my very best to let my honest disinterest in anything he has to say shine through. I followed it up with: "*COUGH!*-nobwit-*COUGH!*"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Nothing - must've had a frog in my throat."
See - even after seven years I'm nothing if not professional.