It’s hard to concentrate at work when your brain checked out a week ago.

I’m really looking forward to Christmas, but not so much for the good times – it’s more the four days off that tickle my fancy just so. I’m exhausted and cranky almost all the time now, and it feels like I’m treading pudding. Chunky pudding that’s past it’s prime. It’s cold, it’s slimy, and I think something is nibbling at my toes. Oh, this is just not good at all.

Last night Josh and I played a hearty round of Good Samaritan. We went to Lonsdale Quay after work for some last minute gifts (well, last minute for me and first minute for Josh because he is a dumb boy), and we saw CRIME in the parking lot. As we were paying for parking, a giant blue pick-up truck backed out of his spot and into a beige sedan. He stopped for a moment, drove forward, then turned his wheel and left the lot. What the fuck, dude. You just HIT A CAR and you didn’t even stop? What an asshole. He left a pretty significant dent in the rear passenger door; one that would definitely cost some coin to be repaired. Josh tried to get his plate number, but it was dark and rainy and the jackass had one of those tinted reflective covers on his plate to stop photo radar from getting his plate number (they don’t work, by the way). Josh memorized what he thought he saw, and I wrote a note to the car owner telling him/her what happened and left the plate number we had. Then because it was raining, we put the note in a plastic bag and left it under their windshield wiper. I hope he goes to the police and tracks the asshole down, because that was a shitty thing to do. I know what it’s like to have someone damage your stuff then just drive off, so hopefully Josh and I were able to help them out and get several large heavy books thrown at the idiot in the pick-up truck. Grrr at nasty people.

So hey, I’m apparently going to Las Vegas. Wacky!