Friday

I randomly left a giant ghost-shaped halloween cookie, an Obama sticker and a post-it with "BOO!" written on it on her desk yesterday when she was out of the office. Every few weeks, we inexplicably exhange little gifties-- last week she gave me a plastic box of mints that taste like dishwasher detergent with a fuzzy rendering of a Japanese imperial print on it. I guess that's why I felt compelled to give her the ghost cookie. The Obama sticker was probably some subconscious symbol of the actual existence of reality, versus office la-la-land. (P.S.: I innocently offered the Japanese-mint-box to Husband this morning, portraying it as a sweet wifely gift. He accepted.)

Anyway, when I came in this morning, she was in a stretchy white cap-sleeve viscose-jersey shirt-- the kind in the high-quality section of Mandee that shows underwire-- black jeans, and those 80s beige stretchy-fabric mules with a square 1" heel and an elevated blech factor. About 20 minutes into the morning she walked over and placed a crumpled white wax-paper bag on my desk. Inside were the crumbs of her raisin scone, being given to me because she had, you know, already eaten too much. I thought: Woman, I DON'T WANT YOUR SCONE CRUMBS. I ALREADY HAD BREAKFAST. Did something about the ghost cookie somehow imply I needed more carbohydrates in my life?