I walked into Shea's office today, to meet her for lunch. Because I haven't been to her workplace since it was renovated, I wasn't sure where her new office space was, and had to go to the receptionist to ask. Upon seeing me, the receptionist immediately pulled out a month-old newspaper that featured my (terrible, unfortunately) picture on the front page, and proceeded to ask me to sign it. Yes, for real.
Now, people, I assure you, I am SO not famous. I am a small (and when I say small, I mean a population of 17,000 or so) city library assistant. I'm not well known for anything, and I only happened to be in the paper because my boss needed someone to pose in the garden behind the library, pretending to be using a laptop. Other than that, you wouldn't know me from Adam.
But whatever. The receptionist said she wouldn't take me to find my sister until I signed, so away I signed. Sweet, but just a tad bit weird.
When she finally DID bring me to my sister, we went on to have a lovely lunch with Jenni at a nearby restaurant.
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Because I work for a city, we have a safety board (comprised of one person from each city department) that meets monthly to discuss accidents that may have occurred during the past month, which required the doling out of workman's comp. Generally, my boss gets to attend the meetings, but since he was away at a conference yesterday, and since he knows how I feel about these meetings, he kindly asked me to take his place.
I don't know what it is about other people's misery, but I love hearing about it. I don't even care about the voting it preventable or non-preventable. I just want to hear who got hurt, how it happened, and just how bad the injury was.
I think there's something wrong with me.
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