Greetings.
The Other New Person at my workplace is in his second week with us now (like my use of 'us'?) The other day he came down in the lift with a trolley, bathed in sweat. There was even a wet patch on the back of his shirt. He asked me where to put the trolley if you hadn't finished unloading it, so I showed him where they went. "Right," he said, "and what if you only get it about half done?" So I gave him the options. "Right," he said, mopping his brow, "And with regards to time...?" The poor love had dashed around trying to get the whole thing done in twenty minutes, hence the perspiring freely. I wonder if I was that industrious when I started?
Can you believe it's September already? Terrifying. Even more so since my dissertation is due. Oh. Fuck.
In my line of work I've come across some books that are guaranteed to put you off your dinner, ones that I have absolutely no wish to ever, ever read. High on this list are the following titles:
The Color Atlas of Intestinal Parasites (yuck), Malignant Disease of the Vulva (ew), and last but by no means least, What doctors don't tell you: the truth about the dangers of modern medicine (mummy!)
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