Anything But Ordinary
The first day is as ordinary as the following one. She wakes up in the morning to her alarm clock bleeping mercilessly. Her hair decides it's time again to not behave. It sticks out in every direction possible.
She showers quickly since she really can't afford to go another day without doing so and throws on a navy blue turtleneck sweater over a pale blue top and her favourite pair of jeans. Even after taking a half hour to straighten her hair, it refuses to sit still, as desired.
She shrugs it off as 'just another bad hair day'. She's had enough of them in her lifetime to know they're not the end of the world. (Some things, such as 'lettuce hair', are worse than having 'out of control hair', she has learned.)
She grabs her bag and notes for the day's work on her way out the door and doesn't realise she forgot to brush her teeth until she's halfway to work. Scowling, she buys a hotdog and coffee at a street vendor for breakfast and eats it as she makes her way up to her office. When she's done eating and has cleaned up the usual spillage from her sweater, she grabs the toothbrush and toothpaste from the top drawer of her desk and heads for the bathroom.
Jack, of course, chooses to follow her inside to request her presence at a meeting later on in the afternoon. Spluttering foam at him (he raises one eyebrow), she tells him, "fine."
The usual work day comes and goes, she attends the meeting and then, finally, it's time to go home. She's one of the last to leave and she wonders for the entire trip home and halfway through her frozen dinner what that says about her.
The second day is the same albeit she throws on different clothes and somehow ends up with a case of 'lettuce hair' after a rushed breakfast, which she is fortunate enough to catch before anyone else notices. The encounter with Jack in the bathroom is a quick 'hello' from him and a message that there's no need for her to join him in his office for the meeting that had been planned during their last conversation.
As a result her afternoon is spent mostly with the writers. They work on the show for the upcoming Friday and order in. Pizza. Extra cheese.
The third day she wakes up in her office with a post–it note stuck to her forehead that once she discovers a good ten minutes later (when she catches the strange glances people are giving her), reads 'Meet me in your office. Now. -Jack.'
She's navigating her way through the halls before she's bothered to check her hair. She tugs at her clothes to straighten them and attempts to tame the wild tangles of brown hair with her fingers as she walks up to his door. She enters his office and is surprised when he's not in there.
Sitting down, she waits.
It's an hour and a half later that Jack makes an appearance. She'd been just about to leave but the opportunity to pass out on his couch had been too good. The chair at her desk has never really provided her body with the support she needs. Her neck still cricks when she moves it.
Jack clearing his throat startles her and she's fully alert (awake) in seconds.
"Jack!"
"Lemon."
"I, uh, got your post-it." She offers him a sour look. (Her forehead, really?) "Thanks," she adds dryly.
"I deduced that from your being here," he agreed without showing the slightest sign of emotion.
"Yeah, well. I'm here now, so what was it that you wanted to see me for?" She strokes a hand through her hair and realises immediately that her attempts to untangle it earlier had been thwarted by her power-nap on Jack's couch. Damn! She holds back a groan.
His eyes are glinting when he looks at her. "First of all, great work on the last show. Brilliant, in fact. That sketch with the panda was HI-larious!" He chuckles softly to himself and she wonders if he's playing over the skit in his mind. Knowing him, he probably is.
"Oookay," she nods.
"Secondly, you have a home to go to, do you not?" His voice is teasing and the corner of his lips twitch up, a telltale sign that he's playing with her.
She nods again and scowls at him. "Yes, of course I do!"
"That's good to hear, Lemon. Perhaps in future you'll return there to sleep," he says. "Of course, I don't mind if you continue to sleep in your office. Have no concern. I'm only apprehensive in regards to your well-being. That chair can't be good for your back."
"No, it's really not. I feel all bent out of shape," she mutters back weakly.
"I can't imagine the drool is good for your paperwork either." He smirks softly to himself and then points towards the door before she can form a coherent response. "I'll talk to you later, Lemon. I have an important meeting to prepare for."
Nodding mutely, she exits. She stops outside his door and stares ahead of her, into space.
Jonathan smiles brightly at her and closes the door behind her. "Nice day, isn't it?" he says conversationally. In a lower but still overly excitable voice, he adds, "he's letting me sit in on one of his meetings today!"
She sighs. Loudly. "Right Jonathan. Great day. Best day since the day Jack let you wash his shirt after Kenneth spilt coffee over him that time."
"Yes. Isn't it?" He doesn't flinch nor seem to notice that she's being sarcastic.
"Yes, Jonathon," she repeats wearily. "And now I'm going to go and find a shovel."
He raises an eyebrow at that. "A shovel? Whatever for?"
Smiling – she's finally gotten through to him – she begins to walk backwards towards her office. "I need to dig a hole," she tells him, turning. "So I have somewhere to bury myself."
The rest of the morning goes on as usual. Two near incidents involving Jenna after lunchtime and a further five with Tracy (one of those consisting of too much make up and a fire extinguisher) in the evening and her day is complete. She falls asleep at her desk yet again.
The fifth day she decides it's time to make a change. She stays as long as she's needed at work and then rushes home to her bed after downing a burger and coke. She asleep in minutes and when she wakes on day six, she wonders if it'd be at all possible to fit a single bed in her tiny office.
fin.