me: bak. I hate typing
me: oops, meant filing (brain dead)
me: oops, meant filing (brain dead)
sister: me too
me: it would be different if it was all done at one level, but I have to stoop to reach a whole drawers worth of files.
sister: that's when you need a short, wheeled chair or stool
me: yes, I am keeping my eyes open for that and a small table with wheels so that I have something to put my paper stacks on before they go into the files
sister: good idea
me: I'm all about comfort
sister: me too
me: I need to talk to my doctor about arthritis meds next time I get in. My neck and shoulders are really feeling it
sister: good idea
me: yeah yeah. Just like many I'm sure I'll forget all about this when I'm sitting in a breezy paper "gown" with my ass sticking to the table paper.
sister: You could tattoo it to your ass
me: no room there, already full of other bright ideas
me: unless of course I manage to expand the "paper" to make more room
sister: don't want to do that
me: no, besides, I barely have time enough to work on the bright ideas back there before I die.
sister: funny how they sound good at the time but stick around longer than you want
me: usually to bite you in said ass
sister: which is why I don't have one
me: it's there, it's just cowering in fear of the next bright idea
