Sod off; go Boose yourself.

I’m delighted to announce that I am, as of this morning…gloriously Boose-free.

I’ve just finished up with my last Boosey project. Unless he slimes into my next one, I can forget him for a while.

(Am I jinxing myself? I might be jinxing myself, daring to celebrate. What’s the old saying—speak of the devil and he shows his horns? Speak of the Boose, and he…sends a weird e-mail.)

He wasn’t so bad this time, to give him his due. I worked with him all summer, and the worst thing he did was malign my grandmother’s garden. Or, no, that’s not true. He refused to attend any development meetings, then whined about choices we made in those meetings. But he didn’t whine much, so I can’t hold a grudge.

It’s such a good feeling, being rid of the Boose. My e-mail’s been binging all morning, and my heart hasn’t plunged or leapt into my throat. I’d forgotten how great that feels, that sweet sense of ease. The thing is, with Boose, he’s often okay—but the times when he isn’t, it’s straight to DEFCON-1. Get to the shelters! Sound the alarms! Woup! Woup! Pull up! Boose on the loose!

I have to do something special to mark this occasion, like write him a sonnet, or a limerick at least.

My boss, Mr. Boose, is a bellicose soul,
With the tact of a moose and the wit of a mole.
But I’ve met my goal,
And he’s back in his hole,
Under his bridge with the rest of the trolls.

…well, that was unkind. A bit far, perhaps. Maybe if he’d done something, but no. I just loathe him.

(No drawing today, alas. I’ve torn my rotator cuff, and it hurts quite a bit. I’m going to rest it today and see if that helps.)

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