It’s going to be 94 degrees today here in Chicago, and muggy. I wandered in from the train station to work (about a 12 minute walk) wearing a tank top with my linen pants, and some sensible hiking sandals. A guy on a bike, wearing shorts, tank top, and do-rag, whizzed by me. He hopped off his bike and went into the office ahead of me.

Once inside, I pulled on a “nice” black shirt over the tank top to give the illusion of some semblance of corporate attire. I bumped into G, one of the temps, wearing khaki pants and long-sleeved gray shirt, and realized he’d been the guy on the bike with the do-rag.

Oh, how we love dressing in drag for corporate America, when we’d rather be in shorts and/or sports bras.

I haven’t had anything to do at work for at least a week. Blaine bumbled in this morning and asked me if I knew how to do a mail merge so I can work on his wedding invitations. For better or worse, I didn’t know how to do a mail merge, and told him to ask Cyllia the secretary.

And so goes the only sort-of project I’ve been asked to do all week: my boss’s wedding invitations.

Oh, what a life.

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