Why I am not particularly fond of wednesdays

Today. Work. I am sitting in my cubicle when three guys approach my desk and ask me to look at a book cover file because one of the lines is not matching up right when they print it. So I look at the job jacket to see who the customer is and groan out loud, "oh, HIM. I HATE his stuff." And then a very deep, scary voice from behind my chair says, "That's rude. Why do you hate my stuff?" REALLY?? Am I that dumb that I did not notice the customer himself standing behind my desk??? Yes. I am. And because I did not know what to do, I pretended like I didn't notice and sat for five minutes in strange silence while I fixed the file. And then, awkwardly I threw out, "Oh it's not you, I say that about everybody. Um. Ha. Ha." Good thing he's a little strange. I told him I had been battling a headache and he told me that I needed to imagine my headache was a great big flaming ball of neon green mass, then I should physically shake my head and remove the ball, zip it up real tight in a plastic bag, and fling it over the mountains. Weekend Countdown: 2 Days.