Oh god, I'm melting. Mellllllltinnnnnng. According to weather.com it's 94 degrees today, but it feels like 104. ONE HUNDRED FOUR DEGREES. That's how hot hell is. (Don't ask, I just know these things.)

I finished the damn sash last night. NINE INCHES! 6 ROWS PER INCH! 195 STITCHES PER ROW! THINK ABOUT IT!

*deep breaths*

Now I'm working on the back. I'm using the Turkish method of knitting, also known as "combined knitting" and "eastern knitting." I'll let you know how this goes.

Oh, and of course after I cast on 95 stitches and knit 3 rows, I realized I forgot to swatch. *slaps forehead*

I'm not ripping this out, either. When I make a mistake, I go alllllll the way.

I like to think I have a fine outlook on the ridiculous. I can sit back and enjoy a ridiculous situation, appreciate it for what it is, and move on. (Unless it's my boyfriend handing me the phone while I'm squeezing out a shit. That's not enjoyable ridiculousness. Anyway.) And so today I will share with you just one of these special, "oh jesus god you have got to be fucking kidding" moments.

I was sitting at my desk yesterday, with my glowing neon "Complaint Department" sign hanging over me, when a coworker we shall call Crab Cakes strides up with all the swagger of someone with A Purpose.

He opens up with "I have a complaint to make." This is nothing new, I am Incoming Complaints, Crab Cakes is Outgoing Complaints. Every day we dance the dance of him whining, me ignoring.

He continues, "The lunch room smells like two day old crabcakes! It's pretty obnoxious. If that smell isn't gone soon, I'm just going to GO HOME!" And he meant it, y'all. I even got the hairy eyeball of, "go ahead and challenge that, sweetbuns."

"Um. Ok." <--- this is my response. I mean, seriously, I'm not going to get worked up over this guy. This is the same ass who wanted me to take a soda survey of the entire office to justify his request for caffeine free diet Coke in the vending machine.

Crab Cakes storms off to his secret lair (constructed of empty cigarette packs and his OWN BILE) to dream up more brazen insults to his dignity.

A little while later I thought to myself, "Hey, I have to eat lunch in the lunch room. I should go see if it really does stink."

I enter the lunch room and CRAB CAKES IS STILL IN THERE. Sniffing. Sniffing at what? The scent of NOTHING.

And what do I get? A sheepish, "I guess the smell is gone."

Beautiful.