Oh, forget it.

Can I just say what an icky, stereotypical Westchester Rich Bitch is sitting next to me on the train? If you've ever read this blog, you know I don't normally talk about people quite like that, but seriously: She's rude, she put her bags on my feet, when her bags fell over, I offered to put them on the shelf, and she didn't look at me and snapped "no, I've got it" and shoved them into the feet of the person in front of her. She's reading a book on Vacations in the Greek Isles, and she just radiates Beyotch-ness.

Or Biatchness, depending how you spell it.

Anyway.

I was nervous this morning. You betcha. I had committed to an office space that was 75% more expensive than the one I currently occupy. I had offered a job to someone who my instincts had totally greenlighted... and that person had accepted. We were meeting at 11am to finalize things.

So.

At 7am, I get an email from one of my outside employees saying that they were going to withdraw from a project, which would cost me about $7,500. At 9am, I get an email from the same employee saying "forget it, we're good." At 11am, the person who accepted the job withdrew. At 11:15am, I sat down with my landlord and begged my way out of our new contract. Then I called my super-cool hippie massage person who I see every now and then, and made an appointment for 3:30.

Then I worked for a few hours. And then I split.

So now I'm sitting on this train, spaced out from an AWESOME session but bothered by Ms. However-You-Spell-It, thinking that you just never fucking know how things are going to go down. So you know what I'm going to do? Go home, play with my kids, and, with any luck, seduce my wife.

Love to all. Even you, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyotch!