<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Joe Fabeetz on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/joe-fabeetz/</link><description>Recent content in Joe Fabeetz on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Tue, 17 Oct 2006 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/joe-fabeetz/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>One Hell of a Day!</title><link>/stories/2006/10/17/one-hell-of-a-day/</link><pubDate>Tue, 17 Oct 2006 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2006/10/17/one-hell-of-a-day/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I had one hell of a day at work! I was so tired that the thought of celebrating my birthday had not even entered my mind. I had at least 150 phone calls today, many of them emergencies in the minds of the callers. It must have been a full moon. No, it was worse than that.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Anyway, I walked in the door and the first thing I did was poor myself a stiff drink. Perhaps my overwrought brain would feel less fried with the proper treatment. My wife called from upstairs “Are you finally home? I have been trying to call you all day and your phone was busy for the last five hours. I thought maybe you were trying to dodge me on your birthday?”&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>