Does This Seem Weird to You?

I was recently tagged by Deals, and now I’m supposed to list six weird things about myself and then tag six other people. Reading over other posts in response to this tag, I realized that I don’t define weird the same way some other people do. I adhere to definitions such as those posted on Merriam-Webster online, which are as follows:

“1 : of, relating to, or caused by witchcraft or the supernatural : MAGICAL
2 : of strange or extraordinary character : ODD, FANTASTIC”

Think of the Weird Sisters in Macbeth. Granted, they represented the Fates, but they are also, by modern standards, weird. More than strange, they are just plain weird.

I can’t think of six weird things about me. Six things that may seem strange (as in foreign) to others, but not six weird things.

I’ve given this topic some thought, and the only thing I could come up with is the fact that I tend deliberately to pronounce words incorrectly or strangely. This isn’t just me, though; several members of my family are like this. For example, instead of “mug” (as in coffee mug), earlier today I referred that object as a “muggy-muggy-mug.” We call sugar “ragus,” which is sugar spelled backwards (Dad came up with that). Knife is pronounced “kuh-niff.” Garage is “guh-rah-guh.”

Even the above isn’t exactly weird, and if I could think of six weird things about myself, I’m not sure I would post them on the Internet. Weirdness tends to be frowned upon.

I don't have freakishly long fingers or toes, I don't sleep with two stuffed animals (just the one), and I'm not afraid of donuts. So that's it. I’m sure there’s something, but can’t think of what it is. Sorry, folks.

Also, I’m not going to tag anyone else. For one thing, I don’t think I know six people in blogland who haven’t already done this. For another, I agree with JLR that tags are like the chain letters of blogland (“You must tag six people or something horrible will happen to your blog in six days!”). Some people like to be tagged, but as much as I like to talk about myself, when it comes to tags I have Eeyore-like feelings ("Nobody wants to read this stuff about me.")

Some people like to be tagged, but since I don’t know which of you do, I’m going to say that if you weren’t tagged by Deals, and if you’re a regular reader of my blog (you know who you are, all four of you), and if you don’t mind doing this, consider yourself tagged.

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Last Final Exam of the Semester Was Tonight

Igh.





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Two Down, One to Go

First of all, let me just say that baby, it’s cold outside. I know, I know, it isn’t Canadian Tundra-level cold, but for here, it’s cold.

Moving on, today I turned in my first grad school term paper. Frankly, I don’t think it was even up to my undergraduate standards, but at least I didn’t put it off to the very last minute, unlike when I was an undergrad. Each of us was also supposed to do a five-minute presentation about our papers, but thanks to the slow ramblings of several of my classmates, we only had to do a one-minute summary. Hurray!

This means that three of my classes are now officially over (there was no final in my Plan Implementation class).

Next Tuesday: the final I’m told that everyone fails, for the class in which I am, yes, that’s right, 14 chapters behind.

Incident Reports

In case any of you were wondering, "Hey, what's-a-matter no incident reports lately?" I will tell you that I have been remarkably unclumsy lately. This is only because I have been spending most of my time seated, studying for exams. I should add that the cord for my Internet connection runs across my room in front of my door, and I trip on it almost on a daily basis. At least I've finally reached the point where I don't trip on it every single time I leave my room. Also, I was eating Pringles yesterday while Wally sat in my lap, and after a while I looked down to pet him and discovered that he had a nice little display of Pringles crumbs on him. Poor little guy.




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Exams

I was going to complain about the statistics exam I have to take this afternoon, but then I read AmStaff Mom's post, so...never mind.



Good luck (not that you'll need it!) and God bless you, AM!

Ah, Popcorn. I Love It, Yet It Hurts Me So.

I love popcorn, but oh, the salty lips problem! My lips are so very chapped right now. I spent the past five minutes chewing on my bottom lip. Of course, it I weren't so lazy, I'd just go get chapstick.

do u wake up tired?

This is the subject line of a spam message I got today...from myself. It's a bit disconcerting to see spam sent to me from me that I didn't want and certainly didn't send.

Incident Report, 11/1/06

1. Sat on JLR's bed to give her a hug good night, and I somehow shifted the boxsprings so that they almost fell off the rails [picture the alarmed look on her face]. While we were trying to fix it,...
2. Wally decided to help fix the box springs and got a claw stuck. As I was trying to free him, he yanked his claw away, and the unexpectedness of it caused me to (accidentally) swing my hand up, so that I...
3. Smacked JLR upside the head.

It was at this point when JLR said, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."



Sigh.

Incident Report, 10.17.06

1. Found someone else's fingernail clipping on the mousepad I was using in the computer lab
2. In public bathroom, sat on damp toilet seat (curse that dim lighting!)
3. Stepped on cat vomit in apartment (barefoot)
4. Had first midterm exam today; have nervous stomach and am unable to eat the yummy ice cream in the freezer (which I guess isn't a bad thing, considering the weight I've put on in the past year). (Technically, this isn't an "incident," but I'm including it anyway. It's my blog.)

Billy, Call Your Grandmother

and give her your correct phone number, man.

Yo-Ho, It's Finally Here!!!

Don't forget to talk like a pirate today, mates!

Arrgh You Ready?

It's Almost Talk Like a Pirate Day again!

My pirate name is:

Captain Ethel Kidd

Even though there's no legal rank on a pirate ship, everyone recognizes you're the one in charge. Even though you're not always the traditional swaggering gallant, your steadiness and planning make you a fine, reliable pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.

Grumble grumble, and I mean it this time

I hate moving. I'm still unpacking, and I've already run out of space to put things. I haven't finished moving stuff from the old apartment. I spent all day yesterday doing laundry, and I still haven't finished because packing, etc., took up so much of my time before the move that I didn't have time to do laundry. My student loans haven't come in yet, and I am b.r.o.k.e. School starts soon, and it looks like I'll be spending the rest of my free time until then running errands, packing, unpacking, cleaning, and painting.

So much for vacation.

On the bright side, because I don't want my four readers to think I do nothing but complain, I will add that one of our new neighbors is moving and was able to make use of some of our leftover boxes.

Why Is It Foggy in Here?

How is the packing going? Well, suffice to say that JLR is sweating, and you know how she feels about that.

And despite my previous statement being sufficient to describe the situation, I'll go on to add that I've discovered that we have more than 20 boxes worth of stuff from the kitchen (which I am still not finished packing), including five baking dishes of various sizes (this despite the fact that I do not cook), and we are moving into a townhome with the tiniest kitchen I have ever had.

In other news, JLR and I are attempting to "windows wash" an old PC that we are giving away. It's been washing away for the past 9 hours, and it's only 19% done. We're moving in 36 hours. What are the odds that the wash will be done by then?

JLR just said something to me, and even though I heard sounds coming out of her mouth, I have no idea what she said.

Please note that I have not proof-read this post.

[update: JLR just came in saying, "Okay, what do you think of this plan...?"]

I Hate Packing

I hate it so much...


Amstaff Mom, you can finish the rest.

Grumble grumble, but not

First I would like to say thanks to Deals for her sweet post today. Deals, I was actually thinking of inviting myself over to watch Newsies.

JLR is taking the bar exam this week, and my parents just happen to be out of town on business during the same three days. I’m staying with JLR in her hotel room (across the street from the testing center, so that she can’t possibly get stuck in traffic and be late for the exam), but our kitties still need daily attention, so my schedule this is week is as follows. Get up in time to make sure that JLR gets up in time for her exam, leave the hotel at approximately 7:30/8:00 and drive the 23 miles to my apartment to feed our cats, empty their litter boxes, and give Wally (the needy cat) some petting time. (Also, I will be packing up our belongings for about an hour each day, as we plan to move next month, and we have almost nothing packed.) Then drive the 23 miles to my parents’ house to let their dog out and water their plants. Then drive the 9 miles to the hotel to check on JLR. My brother was supposed to take care of my parents’ dog in the afternoon, but now he has to work on Thursday, and tonight he is going to a baseball game and won’t get back to our parents’ house until late. So would I mind going back to our parents’ house in the evenings, sitting around for a while, and then driving back to the hotel (an extra 18 miles of driving each day)?

Aaarrrgh!

As I was driving around this morning, I was grumbling to myself about the burdens that were being heaped upon me, one right after the other. I might even have muttered a comment or two about how hard it is to have faith when things keep getting worse. Then, gently, the Lord reminded me about the much greater burdens resting on the backs of those He is asking me to serve. And I remember how faithful He has always been to me, rescuing me from illness, financial problems, and I-don’t-know-how-many painful situations, giving me hope at times when things seemed rather hopeless.

My parents have elderly parents who need care and siblings who won’t help with caring for them. They have jobs at companies that have made large pay cuts for their employees in efforts to stay afloat financially, which means my parents have found their financial situation somewhat worse than they had planned. They have to go out of town for work, and they have all these plants that they’ve worked hard to raise, and they really need someone to take care of them. And by golly, they love that dog, and so do I. They really, really want to make sure she’s well cared for, so shouldn’t they ask me—as a favor—to check on her? They don’t think she’d do well at a kennel, and let’s face it, it would be better if they didn’t spend the money on boarding her, so they have to ask for help.

My brother has had one emotional setback after another for the past, oh, I don’t know, twelve years, and he’s had many a financial problem, too. Now he had to work longer hours than expected on Thursday, so shouldn’t I help him with the dog to make sure that he doesn’t lose his job? And yes, he should have made other arrangements for the baseball game tonight, but he’s under so much stress, it’s not too much to ask that he get a night off.

As for JLR, well, taking the bar is so much more burdensome than taking care of someone who’s taking the bar. I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, especially knowing that if she doesn’t pass, she’ll have trouble finding a job, and if she can’t find a job, she won’t be able to pay off her mortgage-sized student loans.

When I thought about it, I realized that this is simply an opportunity to strengthen my faith, to exercise my faith muscles, if you’ll pardon the analogy (is that an analogy?). After all, if only good things ever happened to us, why would we ever need faith? How could we ever learn to trust Jesus?

So I thank you, Lord, for giving me this gift. And, um, would you mind doing something about the insect buzzing in the window near my head?

Let the Blames Begin!

Yesterday was my last day at work. I'll be going back to school full-time in the fall, and since I'd need to quit my job anyway (they haven't heard of the 40-hour work week...or at least not for peons), I thought I might as well quit before JLR takes the bar. That way I can be available to take care of her.

So now that I'm gone, the customary blaming-of-mistakes-on-the-person-who-isn't-there-to-deny-the-charges will commence.

Another co-worker left just a few weeks ago, and there was much blaming. When something wasn't working, he was accused (in absentia) of having sabotaged the system! I can't wait to hear what they're going to say about me.

A Few Words about The Runt

It has occurred to me that I often seem to be correcting something the Lazy Gnome has said or disagreeing with something she has said. For the record, then, I would like to say that my interactions with the Lazy Gnome have always been pleasant (although that might be because I've only seen her when she's sober), and I very much appreciate her efforts to include me in conversations when we're in a room together.

I thought about posting an incident report, but nothing that has happened to me lately compares with Lia's day yesterday, so I'll just point you (yes, all four of you, Readers) to her blog.







Yeesh.

Could be glue, could be snot

There is an unidentified substance on one of the keypads at work. I know one of the repairmen has been working with glue today, so it's possible that the substance is ick-free...but then again, it might not be glue.

Ich habe hunger.

J’ai faim.

Tengo hambre.

Or, as they say at babbelfish when one translates the phrase from English to Spanish to Russian to French and back to English, Me Starved.

Deals Has Skills

Deals made the coffee this morning. It is strong-o. I have the shakes, but it was gooooooood coffee.

Happy Independence Day!

You may have been, but apparently they weren't

(See post from June 9)

Why did we have to be in the Group of Death?

Are you ready?

Southern, Southwestern, and Portions of the Eastern United States Living

Delaware is not a part of the South. It just isn’t. Yes, it's next to Maryland. It's also next to New Jersey. Ask anyone who’s actually from the South, and they’ll tell you that they would not consider Delaware as being a part of the South.

With some clever reasoning, a state such as Texas could just get in by a stretch, and that’s only because it’s a) immediately adjacent to the South, b) actually in the southern half of the United States, geographically speaking, and c) was settled by many Southerners, who brought their culture and ways of life with them (although there are some Southerners who would tell you that no way is Texas a part of the South). And if you want to use the Civil War definition, Texas was a part of the Confederacy. Delaware, however…no.

So why does information about Delaware keep showing up in Southern Living magazine?

Thirteen minutes 'til brownies. Hee hee.

Deals Returns Today

Yea!

Sleeeepyyyyy. L.e.a.n.i.n.g.s.i.d.e.w.a.y.s

My head is experiencing a gravitational pull towards the counter.

For Amstaff Mom: A Clue-like Moment

Deals and I were at her grandparents’ old house (“old” as in both “former” and “been around since the 1920s”). No one has lived there for about a year, and there’s no electricity. That was okay, though, because we had plenty of sunlight from the windows for what we were doing, which was cleaning out some of the closets. There was a problem, however, when we decided to tackle one of the upstairs closets. It was deep, of the walk-in variety. There was no window or skylight to illuminate the back end, and we needed to go to the back to see what was there.

“I know,” I said, and pulled out my keychain light. I turned it on, and the beam emitting from it wasn’t nearly as bright as I had thought it would be. Not good. Then Deals got all clever.

“You go first,” she said, nudging me forward in to the closet. “I’ll be right behind you.”

‘Now where have I heard that before?’ I thought. ‘Oh, right.’ And I immediately thought of Clue. And Amstaff Mom. And I didn’t want to go in to the closet.

Incident Report -- Trip to New York, 4/19 - 4/24/06

1. Spilled rotel on Hils' kitchen countertop and in her pantry

2. Kicked the back of my mom's feet

3. Kicked the back of my mom's co-worker's feet

4. Kicked the back of JLR's feet

5. Kicked the back of Hils' feet

6. Ran in to and ricocheted off of JLR on several occasions.

7. Fainted.

Incident report, 4/17/06 - 4/18/06

1. Foot bitten by unknown insect. Foot swollen for two days.
2. Swarming of something in my bedroom.
3. Got stuck in elevator at work. GOT STUCK IN ELEVATOR AT WORK.
4. More swarming of some type of insect in my bedroom.

I would like to add that, contrary to what Deals (who wasn't there) would have you believe, I did not keep saying "I have to pee" over and over again whilst stuck in the elevator. I simply voiced a concern that, due to the amount of beverage I had consumed that morning, I would probably need to use the facilities if we were stuck in the elevator for long enough.

Get Down

My sister's laptop is missing the down arrow key. My sister's laptop--which I used to prefer using to my old hand-me-down desktop computer--now has a major typing defect. There I am, typing a web address in to the browser, and below the address line thing (whatever it's called), pops up the address of the website I would like to visit. "Yea!" I think. "I don't have to type the whole address--oh, no, wait. Yes I do."


Sure, I could use the shortcut, if I could just press the down key. There's the shortcut, taunting me, mocking me. Inaccessible.

Bother.

Unfortunately, JLR doesn't seem overly concerned about it.

Incident report, 4-14-06

1. Kicked cart at grocery store.
2. Kicked cart again at grocery store.
3. Kicked table at optometrist's office. [Stupid...big...feet.]
4. Banged knee on table at optometrist's office.
5. Banged elbow on something. I don't remember what.

Sigh.

Um...Incident Report, 3-30-2006

So Deals and I went on a bike ride tonight around the lake. It was fun. Except for when I ran in to the wall...but even that was funny.

It started with Deals having to lower the seat for me on the bike I was borrowing from her sister. Yes, her sister is shorter than me, and I still needed the seat lowered. Y'all, my feet could not touch the ground when I was on the seat. It needed to be lowered. My feet are my secondary bicycle braking system, and they're my primary bicycle braking system when I panic...which is often.

So we're going along fine except for those few times when I wobbled dangerously while attempting to brush hair off my face, or stand and bike at the same time, or go up a steep hill. Didn't fall though, which is what I was really afraid it would happen. After all, it's been about 10 to 15 years since I've ridden a bike. You know what they say about riding a bike? Not true. Oh, sure, you can still manage the balancing part, but not very well. It's like you can always remember how to ride, but if it's been too long between rides, every time you try it again, it's like when you just learned to ride.

Anyhow, we go over a bridge. It's neat. Picturesque. I can see up ahead that there's a turn. One can go left, right, or straight on in to the lake. Or rather, one would go in to the lake, except that there's a wall there. It's sort of a wall/gate mixture. I can't tell which way Deals is going to turn because Deals doesn't signal, not that I can blame her for that. At one point during the ride, I lifted my left arm off the handle bars to signal a turn and did that previously-mentioned dangerous wobbling and decided I wasn't going to risk signaling anymore. The people behind me could just take a wild guess. Which is what I was doing with Deals. 'Will she go left? Will she go right? Ah, she's going right. It's kind of a steep right. Hmm. If I turn at the speed I'm going, I will definitely fall over. Maybe I can slow down enough to come to a complete stop while missing the turn, then turn, and--nope, nope, I'm going to run in to the wall. Yep, I ran in to the wall.'

I am happy to say that the bike took most of the impact of the crash. I had a couple of scrapes on my leg, and that's it. Of course, the chain came off the bike. Deals informs me that, at this point, we are at the farthest point of the ride. Great. So she calls the Boy Toy to come pick us up while I grab a stick and try to get the chain to go back on. Yes, a stick. I don't know anything about bikes--not even how to shift the gears--and my hands were getting all kinds of greasy from the little bit I did handle the chain. The Boy Toy was at the pet food store, but he said he'd come get us. I was bummed because I really wanted to finish the ride. Then Deals merely touches the chain and it goes back on. So I felt kind of silly, yet happy at the same time, because we were able to finish the ride.

At one point the wind was blowing so hard that I. thought. I. was. not. going. to. be. able. to. make. it. I thought of that line from The Lady Eve, "They would've had to bury me at sea." Only "at lake," instead of at sea.

We finally get almost to the end when I see a rather alarming sign that reads:
HIDDEN AND STEEP CURVE AHEAD. REDUCE SPEED.

Um. Y'all know I have a problem with steep curves. I was a tad bit nervous. However, if you were looking for another incident here, you're going to be disappointed because there wasn't one. Well, except for when the Boy Toy was waiting for us at the end, and his dog wrapped its leash around Deals' legs, and she fell over. And then there wasn't much room in his vehicle after we put the bikes in it, so Deals and I had to share the front seat. With our bike helmets on, in case our heads knocked together.

Incident Report, 3-28-2006

Incident report: a compilation of recent events

1. Banged hand on car door frame

2. Fell in to car when car door swung in unexpectedly as I tried to exit the vehicle

3. Stubbed toe on portable heater

4. Knocked brush attachment off of vacuum

5. Accidentally unplugged vacuum while still using said vacuum

6. Forgot to turn off vacuum before plugging it back in

At least at this point, I’d rather deal with my regular incidents than face the ones our intern has been dealing with. In the past two weeks, she has fractured her ankle, fractured her sternum, and had a window fall on her nose. Don’t ask.

My. Hair. Is. Attacking. Me.

That's a Mistake I Should Have Learned to Avoid By Now

With lunch today I drank a cup of coffee, a cup of tea, and a cup of water. This means, basically, that I will get no work done this afternoon because I will spend all of my time in the bathroom.

The Magic Eraser

Do y'all remember last August when I posted about my dadgum bathtub, and how it always looks like a thousand different dirty feet have stood in it? I scrubbed, and I scrubbed, and I never could get it to look clean. This was a bit disconcerting, as it was that way when I moved in to my apartment, so I don't know whose feet made those stains.

Well, this weekend, I tried using the Magic Eraser on it, and you know what? It worked! I'm not saying the tub's now a perfect white, but it is much, much better. Thanks, Mr. Clean!

For Amstaff Mom

Half-eaten food: breakfast at Denny's with Dad. On the plate you will see: sausage (ate the bacon), remnants of Belgian waffle, remnants of pancakes, and remnants of hash browns (actually on plate to the side). Also a few remaining bites of egg (to the left of the sausage).

A Conversation Overheard This Weekend

Deals. and I were staying at a hotel in Austin because we were due to speak at a conference the next day (and that's another story). Her aunt and uncle dropped us off. Before I go any further with this story, I should tell you that D. has Snoopy as the wallpaper on her cell phone. In a minute, you'll see why I'm telling you this.

To continue, we went out to dinner with a friend of her Aunt A. and Uncle B. I was wearing jeans and a polo-type shirt. Not dressed up. I thought we were going to meet FODAU (Friend of Dealey's Aunt & Uncle) at the restaurant, but, no, we're picking her up, and I end up sitting next to her, which means that the shy person (me) is going to have to make polite conversation with a stranger. I find myself praying that it's going to be a short drive. About half a block from the restaurant, Aunt A. or Uncle B.--I forget which--asks D. if she's ever been to this restaurant before. She says that she hasn't, and FODAU says, "It's a private club."

My immediate reaction is the very uncouth, "Crap! I'm not dressed for a private club!" This was said in my head, by the way, and not aloud. In the words of Television Without Pity, Un!Comfortable!

Later, Aunt A. and Uncle B. drop us off at our hotel. We check in to our room and begin the getting-ready-for-bed process when D. realizes she's left her cell phone with her family. She finally manages to call Aunt A. on her cell phone and tells hers that if she needs to reach us, she can call my cell phone. Since Aunt A. isn't able, at the moment, to write down my cell phone number, Deals tell her that she can use her (Deals') phone, as my cell phone number is programmed in to said phone.

"Just press four-six-Send," she says. And that's when the fun starts.

"Four-six-send...send...it's the little green button....the green button...okay, let's start over. Close the phone and open it again...Do you see Snoopy? Okay, now press four-six-send...send...Go back to Snoopy...Go back to Snoopy...It's four-six-send...Oh, I know. Here, go back to Snoopy...Now, press four and hold down the six...just hold down the six....Go back to Snoopy...Now, press four and hold down the six...No, no, don't turn around! Don't come back! Just press four-six...Okay." She breaks off and turns to me. "[RR], what's your cell phone number?"

U.S. Olympic Giant Washer Count, 2/20/06

Gold Giant Washers: 7
Silver Giant Washers: 5
Bronze Giant Washers: 3

Total: 15

Absolute Power Quote of the Week, 2/19/06

"Martin, you made this bed. Prepare to eat it."

Dadgummit

JLR got that dadgum Hollaback Girl song stuck in my head the other day. We both realize that the song is not one to be recorded in the annals of Great Songwriting, and neither of us actually like the song, but it nonetheless gets stuck in our heads from time to time...usually because one of us inflicts it upon the other.

The reason for this post is to point out (to those of you who haven't already seen it) Greg Stacy's hi-larious explanation of the lyrics for "Hollaback Girl." Thanks to Mr. Stacy, instead of cringing, I now smile whenever I hear the song.

I'm Awake, I'm Awake, I'm Awake, I'm Awa--snzzzzz......

Deals is out today, making me feel a bit like the Little Red Hen.

("Who’s going to help me make the coffee? Who’s going to help me drink the coffee?")

Sigh.

Lunch today, and Wheeeee!!

Had a Murderous Mocha at lunch (the coffee shop/restaurant's name for it, not mine), mmmmmm, plus onions in my black eyed peas, so bad breath, too much caffeine, got the shakes, but oh, my, I'm productive. (AM, think "my, this soup's delicious," 'cause that's how I'm thinking it in my head).

And yes, the above side note to AM is a "shout out" to Have Suitcase...Will Travel. Come to think of it, why am I using the term "shout out"? Hmm, perhaps fodder for another post.

Back to work! You're not getting paid to believe in the power of your dreams!


(And that, my friends, is a shout out to Despair, Inc.)

A Question to Ponder

Why are the vowel-sounds in "flood" and "food" pronounced differently?

Perhaps a word historian can answer that for me. Is it because they have different etymologies?

The Not Good Day

I don't know how it is at your job, but not too long after I started at mine, a "reign of terror" began, and it wasn't uncommon to come to work only to find that yet another co-worker had been booted out the door for no good reason. It was the same at my sister's job, worse actually. Her boss believed that it was good policy to fire people randomly (and often), just to make sure nobody slacked off or tried to cross him. Anyhow, things have been much better at my job over the past few years--no one has been fired since at least, oh, 2003--but I still unconsciously brace myself for a trip to the unemployment office whenever the boss seems unhappy or wants to see me in his office. Imagine how I felt at lunch one day last week, then, when my supervisor came in to the breakroom and announced (in front of three of my co-workers and a volunteer) in an unhappy-sounding tone that he wanted me to be in his office at 4:00. "Four o'clock?" I thought, alarm bells ringing. You see, that's the end of the day. And the end of the day is when they fire people. Actually, the end of the day on Friday is when they usually fire people. "Oh, well, at least it's not Friday," I said to myself and then immediately began to panic as I realized, "Holy *%@#, it's Friday!!!!" [Pardon my bad language. I'm not usually prone to swearing, but, I'm sorry to say, when I panic, sometimes the bad words just come out. Anyway, I was sure I was going to get fired.]

I hurried back to my office in order to clean all of the personal messages about of my e-mail account. There's nothing obscene in my e-mail, mind you, it's just that I don't want my co-workers reading about my diet failures or my occasional "digestive difficulties," which I am prone to discussing with my close friends via e-mail. I opened up my "saved messages" folder and glanced in horror at the number of messages I had saved there--more than 4,000! "That can't be right," I thought to myself, but yes, it was. I hastily began forwarding them to my personal e-mail account, but didn't have time to forward more than about 1500 before my meeting rolled around. My left shoulder muscle got all kinked up from repetitive motion.

As it turned out, my supervisor just wanted to make sure that I knew that I have absolutely no decision-making authority whatsoever. Apparently, I had made a decision about something without consulting him first, and that just will not do. So I learned something that day. It wasn't a good day, but it was an educational one.

The Toilet of Perpetual Flush is No Longer

That is to say, it still exists as a toilet, and a functioning one at that, but it is no longer The Toilet of Perpetual Flush, as it once was. I have to admit, I find this to be disappointing. I went in to the bathroom today with the goal of timing TTPF so that you all could realize just how long the flushing process of this toilet was, only to discover that the toilet now has a regular flush cycle.

The Double Flush

Howdy to the four people who read my blog! I’ve finally returned! Wow, it's been so long, I almost forgot my login and password. Aaaanywho...

Today, I’m going to talk about the Double Flush. It involves telling you about the bathroom, and I don’t want to be crude, so bear with me while I find a delicate way to tell this short and not-so-very-interesting story.

At work the other day, when D. flushed the toilet in the staff bathroom, it caused a minor incident to occur. Let me take a moment to state that this was not caused by anything that D. had done while in the bathroom. We’d been having water issues at work, and the plumbing had become rather sketchy while they worked out the kinks; problems included water coming from the taps in spurts instead of streams and toilet water taking on a grayish color. Anyhow, D. used the facilities, and when she flushed, the effect was like a mini-volcanic eruption. Now, nothing that she had flushed could have caused this, so it must have come from a predecessor. Or something. Anyhow, an unpleasant odor accompanied this eruption. D., a bit shaken from almost having an accidental shower, rushed down to my end of the building to get me because when you’re going to ask someone to help you investigate a toilet problem, it’s a good idea to get the person who has very little sense of smell. Anyhow, I flushed the toilet again, and nothing bad happened, so I guess the second flushing fixed the problem. All that to tell you that I have now instituted a double flush policy. When I use the staff bathroom, I flush twice. Only now that I think about it, I realize that I should be flushing once before I go to the bathroom and once after, not twice after. Hmm. I’ll have to amend the double flush policy and procedures manual.