Rubber Bands of the Apocolypse

So yesterday, I had this rubber band around my wrist. I took it off of something and put it on my wrist and it just stayed there. I have no idea why, so don’t ask.

Fast forward to later in the day. I’m in the copy room getting a bunch of stuff together. As I’m walking out of the copy room, I feel something tickle my wrist and immediately think that it’s a spider or some other sort of creepy crawly (not that the copy room is like the Crypt Keepers lair or anything, but you know how I am). So I drop my papers and do the hibbidy-jibbidy dance, all the while saying, “Get it off me! Get it off me!”. Only to realize seconds later that it’s the rubber band that has been on my wrist all day.

I realize for me, this is nothing new. I routinely freak out about bugs. Bugs and porcelain dolls...freaky deaky. However, these people I work with have never been witness to my brand of crazy. I guess you could say they were “baptized” yesterday.

With all the grace and dignity I could muster, while the laughter of my co-workers surrounded me, I calmly picked up my papers and walked back to my desk. Those who were laughing are on “The List” and the retribution will be swift and decisive. They have yet to be witness to my brand of evil. Silly rabbits.