In like a lion…

I’d like to say that it’s just the weather. But as we entered the conference room for the R&D meeting, the room felt chilly and normal. When we left the room at the conclusion of the meeting, the contrast was….obvious. It had become humid. Too much hot air in one small space.

If someone asks you a yes or no question, does your answer need be an essay?

No.

Shut up. Answer the question and shut up. This is not a philosopher’s workshop. It’s a lab.

I’m so annoyed that I’d been passed over for patentable work for years, but now that it’s crunch time, I’m so very needed. All hands on deck? Bitch, please. Two years ago, when I had no interest in mommifying myself, I would have been more than enthusiastic to get my hands contaminated. Now, not so much. But I’m a trooper. I’m here to work. Give me the recipe. Isn’t that what women are for? Doing all the hard work in the backstage area, letting men revel in the glory? Sick, sick, sick.

And now, for my smiling, beatific face. Fake it ’til you make it. Out like a lamb.

Edit: I’m not one of those oh-poor-me the discriminated-against woman types. At least I try not to be. I could just as easily be as annoyed or more than annoyed if the person giving me the shaft were a woman. Interesting. I’d probably be even angrier about it. What’s that all about? I just have serious spring fever. Weatherbug says seventy degrees. I want out of my box!

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