Would you like some cornflakes?

I woke up to the smell of pee. Or maybe it was rust. In any case, the water in the shower (where I did my waking up) gave off an unsettling waste-treatment-plant whiff this morning as it washed all over my body and deep into my crevices. And the fainted smelling body wash I used because I’m a delicate lotus blossom with skin as sensitive as a Dubya draft deferral document, I couldn’t mask the eau with anything.

Yuck.

And then when I got to work and started guzzling my eight glasses of water, I noticed that the stuff tastes like what you’d imagine Dick Cheney’s underpants smell like after a long day of drinkin’ and huntin’. So I’m thinking it’s an all southern Indiana thing.

But that was just the beginning of today’s adventures. Apparently was Bring Your Distracting Pet To The Flea Market Day. I spent the morning in an emergency meeting … with a dog. Don’t get me wrong: I love it when people bring their doga. Seriously. I love 'em. It happens pretty frequently, and the dogs seem to fit nicely in our funky redneck environment. In fact, there was a friendly old yellow lab that used to wander aimlessly around the property and visit everyone all day. But he disappeared after a couple weeks. We think he got promoted to the corporate office in Louisville.

The dog today, though friendly and cute, really needed a bath. His smell was so pungent, in fact, that someone else in the meeting actually apologized because he thought he must have stepped in dog poop on his way to work. (I selfishly declined to mention that I’d showered in urine this morning.)

But! The Cloud O’ Canine was soon eclipsed by the realization that we had a bird in the office today as well. And it wasn’t just any random pigeon that flew in through an air vent. No! It was a caged bird, which a VENDOR!!! (there's something weird about that) consciously decided to bring into MY office as if this were a good idea.

And the damn thing chirped all day.