Expendable

I am officially replacing Blathering Boob Day with Blithering Idiot Day, here's why:
It is not wise to go into work expecting great things when you have been ill for a week. Oh, foolish me, prancing in 15 minutes early, displaying my eager to please smile after letting co-workers pick-up my slack while I've been home blowing my raw, red nose. The half-hearty smiles received as I sailed past on my way to the time clock. And then, BUMP, right into my old manager who recommended me for this job, whom I haven't seen in 2 1/2 years, and here we are face to pale, peeling, pasty face. Ah, the joy of it. How lovely I must have looked, with the added scratch just over my lip that my grand daughter gave me while playing. With hair hanging like oily, day old....hair. Yes, indeed, what a vision. Not even clocked in yet, and off to a slam bang start. Oh, the night just kept getting better. An impromptu briefing of employee "stage two" expectations with a manager could be considered the highlight of the evening. Nodding my head up and down like one of those little toy dogs in the back of a car, while my manager, smiling ever so sweetly, explained to me the expectations of the company. And the wonderful re-assurance from one and all that I really didn't look "that bad" after being so sick; now there's something happy to hear over and over. After a long night, and being thanked repeatedly for "coming in", I was beyond relieved to come home and see my grand daughter who looked up and said "Nee!" (that's my name to her). She looks great by the way, after having the same cold and rubella just before that. Little sweetie.