A Plea

Ok, universe. We just had a discussion about being psychic. Can we calm down the "life changing, big bomb dropping, dear God not you too" crap lately?

My phone is ringing off the hook, I'm talking to more people than a salesperson at a conference lately, and I'm not sleeping great. I really take exception on that last one. I can sleep through a World War yet I'm just not feeling my perky self lately. Ugh.

So whenever you'd like to calm the heck down, that would be lovely.

And while we're discussing things, I'd like a wonderful title to match my spiffy new job and raise. Every time I get a new job lately, they ask me what I want my title to be. I don't get assigned a title, like mere mortals. Heck no! I get choices. So I'd like to be the Grand Poo Bah of all things Logistic. It seems fitting since I visualize my job as juggling Ginsu's while riding a unicycle and getting fireballs thrown at me, and reciting the Gettysburg Address too, in a loud, dramatic voice of authority. It's relaxing as compared to the actual reality of everything I do all day. So while you're tinkering around, you just go make everything wonderful and I'll be sure to be appreciative when it happens.

Deal?