Anne B. Walsh - Do you believe in magic?
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Surprise!
Why I do work here
Mr. Latvian Door and The Assistant
The plant
Door. Latvian Door.

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Anne's Randomness

Surprise!

Hey, look at that! I'd written on the Facebook page that I wouldn't be able to put up the Fiction Friday blog post until later today, but some days it's nice to be wrong. Sorry for not posting at all this past week, by the by, O readers. Light-sensitive migraines are nobody's friend, especially when they are caused or worsened by stress.
 
But in any case, my head feels better now, my vision has stopped distorting, and my balance is back to normal, which means I can do a certain amount of writing.

Why I do work here

Greetings, O readers. If you have been around Anne's Randomness for a while, you may be expecting a Why Do I Work Here Wednesday post today, full of humorous grumping about the state of my workplace. And I could do that, as the stories have certainly not stopped coming. But I think perhaps, just for today, I will not do that.
 
It's not that it's stopped being funny that the manager of a department of five employees doesn't recognize the "out of paper" symbol on the printer.

Mr. Latvian Door and The Assistant

And the adventures of Mr. Latvian Door and Olaf the Super-Pup continue! Because I'm just silly like that. Hope everybody's been having a decent week. Mine, as you may have noticed if you read Wednesday's blog post, has been a bit frustrating, but I'm finding ways through it. Like talking to plants, and writing exceptionally silly things.
 
Some of the silly things I'm writing are only in my head, because they need a bit of the silliness wrung out of them before they're fit for you, O readers.

The plant

To get the right feel for the title of today's post, you have to imagine it said in the voice of the creepy autopilot from Pixar's "Wall-E" (which, if I remember right, was just the talk-out-loud feature on a Mac). It's not just the plant, it's "THE PLANT". Specifically, a nice little potted plant whose name is Cindy, after her first human.
 
Cindy now lives in an office near me, though I'm not going to say whose. That wouldn't be smart, because you see, Cindy is an illegal plant.

Door. Latvian Door.

Yes, the silliness is back! Sorry for missing Fiction Friday, O readers. I had one of my lovely migraines, triggered by stress, weather, stress, tiredness, stress... you get the idea. Migraines are less about pain for me these days and more about balance issues, vision disruption, fatigue, and the inability to concentrate. Not a whole lot of fun.
 
But in any case, I survived it, and I'm going to make it up to you today with an exceptionally silly Made-Up Monday, along with some good writing news!

The Tale of the Ten Bosses

Once upon a time, in an office building not so far away, which belonged to a company called Glass Bathroom Bank, there worked a young woman called Cinderanna. Now Cinderanna was an administrative assistant, which means that it was her job to help the people in her department to do their jobs. But Cinderanna had a bit of a problem.
 
You see, Cinderanna was a nice person. Maybe a little too nice. Whether people were in her department or not, Cinderanna would help them if they asked for it.

The continuing adventures of Mr. Latvian Door

So apparently being Mr. Latvian Door is not enough for my troublesome brother. He also has to be a hero. I'm getting the feel of kids' books here, along the lines of the Captain Underpants series: "Mr. Latvian Door and the Dancing Pineapple". "Mr. Latvian Door and the Driving Lessons". And then there's Mr. Latvian Door's sidekick...
 
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Our story begins with Mr. Latvian Door at one of his favorite places, namely, church.

When it's a brother

Most of us have told that horrible old joke, "When is a door not a door? When it's ajar!" at some point. I would like to propose a new answer, that which titles today's blog post. Make sense? Of course it doesn't, not yet. This is my family we're talking about. It might, however, make a bit more sense once you have some background.
 
My sister, theater geek that she is, likes accents. She will often become the Latvian Lady in the course of everyday conversation, just for kicks and giggles.

Who moved my apple?

Because as far as I'm aware, cartoons and popular belief aside, mice would rather eat fruit than cheese. Today's Fiction Friday offering is a little bit sci-fi, a little bit weird, and definitely on the shorter side, but I hope that you will enjoy it anyway. It's totally unconnected to anything else I've written, but it's words and that's what counts today.
 
As for other writing news, well, there isn't any at the moment. Story ideas continue to pile up inside my head, and story words continue to refuse to be put on the page.

Yes, really

If I've said it once, I've said it, oh, I don't know, seventeen times. The job I thought I wanted (grade-school teacher) bears a startling resemblance to the job I have (administrative assistant). In both cases, I am dealing with a large group of immature, demanding individuals who are not at all fond of hearing the word "no".
 
How do I handle this? Well, first, I had to recognize it, which took a surprising amount of time. I was expecting my adult coworkers to, I don't know, act like adults?
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