It Must Be Wednesday

Jim, my boss, works late most nights. That said, some days he doesn't come in until noon. Today was one of those days. He came in around noon, immediately walked straight to my desk, sniffed the air, and while glaring at me, declared, "I smell popcorn." I doubt Alicia, our writer, finished her lunch alone.

There I was, assembling a show on my computer at my desk. Michael Jackson playing softly in the background. In the reflection in the window in front of me, I see Jim moonwalking behind me.

Random conversation of the day:
"Coffee?"
"Mmhm."
"Does it make you feel better?"
"For a while, yes. It never stops pain for very long, though."