Well, I've had a few hours sleep, and at least 12 showers, but I don't think I've quite recovered from the nightmare of incarceration. (Must remember to be suitably grovelling and grateful to H, J and L for getting me out when I see them for dinner on my big day. And I sure hope they take credit cards). The only bright spot I can recall in the last 24 hours was the lovely Officer Paris Hilton - stict but fair (haired). It was a pleasure to be in her control, and I have to say it was a particular delight to have her take down my particulars.
But what on earth do I do next? The Company is sure to know about the blo*** Prius - I'm pretty sure that they called SB the EVP before reverting to my pals for help. So, am I facing a future with no Chelsea, no Aston, no job, and no car?????
Sorry, just had to break off to take a call on my mobile. Apparently, J has used her HR links to persuade the Company Medic that I'm having a breakdown, so they are offering to forgive everthing and put me in a private hospital for emergency treatment. I don't have a lot of choice, so I've agreed to exaggerate the symptoms and head off to the funny farm tonight.
Will check in as soon as I can - I wonder what tomorrow will hold???
No Comments/Trackbacks for this post yet...