this is why we can't have nice things

I'm sitting in my temporary cubicle desk when my boss leaves for lunch. I start up a House episode, put a frozen meal in the microwave before I hear a distinctly annoying buzzing sound. I peer out of the break room and sure enough, my boss left her blackberry sitting on the desk. Now, I have exactly two seconds to do either: ignore it, assuming she probably wanted to leave it there OR figuring she is a rational over worked human who can't breathe air normally without her blackberry in hand at all times, manage to give it to her before leaves.

Lucky for her (and unlucky for my legs and respiratory system) I decide to give it to her.

I spend the next five and a half seconds bolting out the door, launching myself down the stairs, around a precarious wooden railing that heaves under my weight, vaulting down another flight of stairs and somersaulting out the door (ok maybe not but I did sort of half stumble and had to crouch down to get my shit together so it was inadvertently very ninja) and manage to catch her just before she pulls out of the parking lot. I hand her the phone through the window, gasping "You----wheeeze---forgot----wheeeeeze---y

our phone------wheeeeeeeeeze."

She grabs the phone, looks at me bent almost double from the exertion and just blinks. "Wow, you're like--super assistant."

I try to give a witty reply along the lines of "You bet your ass" but it comes out more like "Yeah--mfhaGASPAIRBREATHENOWOMG-ahtahBLOOO."

I wave at her instead, walk away holding what's left of my insides and have to take a rather intense breather on the way back up the stairs. Like an old man. Leaning against a creaky railing, wheezing and cursing the kids who keep stepping on my lawn. This is when I decided--

I really need to get in shape.