Sputtering Fits

Its been an interesting past couple of days, mostly in the evenings, listening to Mrs Duck as she rants and rants about work. Shortly, I believe she is going to revert into Daffy Duck, stuttering and spit all over the place as she discusses the lack of work effort, gumption, or even activity that her supervisors show. If the building is not metaphorically on fire, things don't get done. And for the type A personality that my wife is, that is not a healthy situation.

I just nod complacently and listen to her bend my ear, mostly because this is the same song and dance that has been played for months now, plus my normal place, since I am still helping out somewhere else, has many of the same qualities. So I can commiserate, but not fix. What I can fix her is a nice stiff drink.