Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Whispers, Sunshine and Pink Shoes

Woke up this morning to sunlight on my face. My favorite way to begin a new day.

Decided it was Spring, even if it is only 40 degrees outside, and I would put the boots aside and wear shoes today. My mauvey/pink stilletos, to be exact. Not sure if the boots are retired for good, after all, it is April in New England, we could still get snow, but for now, it feels like shoe season.

Trying really hard to maintain the excellent mood I arrived at The Firm with, but Whisper Wednesday is in full effect, and I've come to realize that my LEAST favorite sound in the world is the sound of whispered conversation. It scratches at me like nails on a chalkboard. Creeping into the deepest parts of my soul, stirring up feelings of inferiority long thought forgotten. The irritation when I can hear the whispering is akin to that a woman feels in the depths of her goes from mild, to "I want to grab them and slam their heads together" in record time. Seconds away from head slamming, I close my office door and blast some Justin Timberlake. Something has to quiet the rising "office rage". Forget road rage, THIS is what gets my blood boiling.

Deep breaths, JT's voice, and a Timbaland beat...crack the window, inhale the fresh air, and I'm feeling better already.

The Africa story is coming, possibly as part of my Thursday Thirteen. There is a new American Idol recap over at Cafe Karina, and I've decided to join NaPoWriMo, or National Poetry Writing Month (where I will attempt to write a poem a day for the month of April) over at Creative Karina. Won't you stop by?


Rebecca said...

Going from mild to ---- ! haha, I've been there! But I think you should be blasting some NKOTB ;-)

Karina said... know Frigga, I really should! But I don't have any on my mp3 player...I need to dig out my old cd's and add them! hahaha...

Rose said...

Hang on Karina. I know you can do it. You did the righ thing.
I thind you shoul go out for Lunch.

Unknown said...

I'm not much into whispers either. The s s s grate on my nerves and you always have s ss in whispers. It's like a bug trying to eat my eardrum. Ugh!

Pamela said...

I envy your door and your own music.