Jesus Christ I was on the edge today. Today verged on the worst day ever in The Fish Tank.  It started off fairly well with a marathon sleep, followed by a walk to work in the pissing rain, yet I was still relatively chirpy by the time I finally swam up to The Tank....and then it all went downhill. 

No one would answer phones, I have a welt on my index finger from hitting the answer button "Good morning Nemo speaking!"...so at 12.20pm today the 26th of September in the year 2012, Nemo went on strike. Now when I say on strike I decided (in my head) that from that point until feeding time at the zoo 1pm, I would not answer the phone unless all four other individuals on the desk had answered and there was, quite literally, no one else to answer the phone except me. I SHALL NOT BE MOOOOOOVED.

So, not being satisfied with my attempt at de stroike, I felt that people really needed to know how I felt today.  Therefore throughout the afternoon, I:
- told my boss that I wasn't really a sales person at all
- told one of Flipper's helpers that I was in denial that I worked in any kind of tank
- announced really loudly that a bit of me died inside today and soon there'd be nothing alive inside, all dead, just black, dead eyes
- mouthed to one of the lads on the desk in full view of half the tank "I-hate-my-job!"
- snapped all the split ends on the left side of my head
- muttered under my breath every 30-40 minutes "I can't cope"
- told a work colleague to tell a customer who had phoned for me that I had jumped out the window, but if she wanted to leave a message, they'd pass it on should I survive
- sent crazy emails to my work buddies which I'm sure they've held on to as evidence of my psychotic behaviour should I lose the plot entirely
- downed tools at Levi Time(5.01 wha' wha'!) and ran out the door so fast I'd swear my feet did not touch the ground (and I'm not being cliched in saying that)

I'm wondering should I bother going in tomorrow at all!