Dear Ndugu, get ready to pay out the ass
This morning I went with two coworkers over to the second in command boss's house (she's out of town) and we planted the stuff we'd bought. It wasn't easy, because the ground was muddy where we were planting and marshy where we were standing. I got totally wet and muddy (but I was wearing grubby clothes at the time) and I couldn't get all the dirt out from under my fingernails, but it the plants worked out and it all looks good. The thing we were doing, specifically, was that we ordered second in command boss an engraved stone (like a regular rock, but flat) in honor of her mother's death a couple months ago. We put the stone in and planted things around it, and then mulched with shredded bark. I have at least 15 mosquito bites and the shoes I was wearing are caked with mud. Mission accomplished.
At work we switched some responsibilities around and I am now in charge of all our publications. On the one hand, I'm a little excited about it. On the other hand, my boss gets final say over the stuff I write and he is also really vague about what he wants, publications-wise. So I'm mainly nervous because I have to write a big brochure and don't really know what he wants in it. I have decided to improvise. He said he wants me to be creative, but I doubt he'd like my creative ideas. I was thinking the whole newsletter could be a Dear Ndugu-style informative letter, but I only thought that for two seconds before remembering that my boss doesn't like that sort of creativity. He only likes non-creative creativity. I shall overcome.
Tonight Francisco is going to his shooty-shoot and Boy and I will hang around at home. I need to get going so I can see Francisco before he leaves. I'm very lucky that my favorite person in the whole world is the person I'm married to.
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