The curse of the wagging tongue

There comes a time in every person’s life where the need to speak overwhelms any sense of propriety or appropriate office decorum-and for me, that time is now.

Earlier this morning, as I was making the long journey from my cubicell to the group printer my department has been assigned (located conveniently on the other side of the building), I couldn’t help but notice a recent development in the wardrobe stylings of one of my least-favorite coworkers.

Specifically, my coworker is wearing an eye patch.

And by ‘eye patch,’ I am not talking about a tasteful, flesh-toned bandage that has been delicately taped over the folds of my coworker’s eye so as not to draw attention; no, the eye patch my coworker has selected is big and black and probably visible from space. In fact, I vaguely remember seeing a similar patch on display at the Pirates of the Caribbean gift shop, during my last trip to Disney World.

It probably doesn’t help matters that this particular coworker also walks with a slight limp….and carries a talking parrot around on her shoulder.

Someone pray for me.