AS THE HAND BURNS

Howdy sirs, I’m rising from the fog. I can now walk more than 15 minutes before my hand feels like a burning fist–one I’d like to hurl at a few of my colleagues. Guys, three members of my family are employed at the DMN. I have spent the last few months listening to their anxiety. (Not to mention my mother’s emotional state.) OK, ha-ha DMN management is cruel–I’ve watched my family continue to work DAILY–yes, they travel, report, write, and do expense reports DAILY–in an atmosphere of spiraling rumors and uncertainty. Rod, you’ve crossed the line. Don’t get on my bad side, I can be a mean bitch.