Here's a weird thing about having an office job.

This week I get clean BEFORE going to work instead of needing a shower AFTER working.

Here's another weird thing: I'm getting paid to pick up the phone.  It took me until two hours into the first shift before I realized that I actually... kind of...hate picking up the phone.

But it's not calling for me and they don't want anything from me and I only have to push a few buttons to send the phone call to where it needs to go.  And they're paying me.  So it's okay.

Another weird thing: I'm answering phones while the salesmen are selling cars.  You know what?  I could do what they do.  I could sell pickup trucks.  I love trucks.  You might already know that about me.  I love all trucks.  GMC, Dodge, Ford.  All the trucks.

I could sell you an F-150.

One of the guys decided I'm his good luck charm because I referred to him as The F-150 Guy after he sold one, and then went and sold another one the next day.

See?  I'm good with trucks.

And here's one thing that I don't think is weird at all:

I am wearing platform wedge slingback black and white gingham shoes to work.

Now you might thing it's weird, because I wear boots a lot, and I feel like me when I'm in boots.  But I'm wearing high heels and I'm walking in them.  I am driving my truck in them.  I put 'em on and I leave 'em on.  Because you know what?  I COMMIT.

Also, they're GINGHAM.  What good country girl doesn't love gingham eh?

And they were only twelve bucks.  So I gotta wear them to justify that huge extravagant expense.

Well, that and we've only got a few nice days left before fall hits hard, so I'd like to be able to see my toes.  Soon it'll be woolly socks and I won't see my toes until, like, next May.

It's kind of interesting, doing this little temporary gig.  It's been about eighteen years since I had a job like this.  I do believe this could all come out in a book someday.  That's what happens with fiction writers. Everything in life becomes potential fiction fodder.