Bad Things Happen When I'm Forced, Yes Forced, to use Excel
My assistant is working on something mightily pressing this morning, and it's my own fault so I didn't dare ask her to make a spreadsheet for me. I can handle this myself. Yeah right. Two hundred pages spit from the printer (so much for our nonprofit status), I hollered out loud "Bloody Bloody Bloody Hell," (breaking our no-cussing-in-the-workplace rule), tipped over my tea cup, and somehow lost the document AND crashed my computer at the same time.

This can only be resolved by a indulging in a steaming bowl of beef pho, and by purchasing a new outfit. Off I go.