I had a great assistant at my last job. She took care of all my travel arrangements, coordinated my calendar, managed my paperwork and kept my office organized. One look at my current desk and you quickly realize that I no longer possess this fabulous person. So what's a girl to do? Bring Iona to work of course.
I had contemplated bringing her into the office for a few days, and Friday just seemed right. I snuck her past the security guard by going through the side door and up the back steps. Unfortunately it was raining and her dirty feet left paw prints all along the left side of my white jacket. Not the best wardrobe choice for this particular day.
She spent most of the day sitting under my desk and greeting anyone that entered my office. The rest of the day she would wander in and out of cubicles looking for food or a quick pet. I think only one person screamed when they looked down and unexpectedly saw an orange beast rooting around their cube.
It was wonderful having her there and I wish I could bring her everyday. She too seemed to enjoy it. She was so wiped out from her hard day at work that she slept the entire ride home and passed out early and hard. Perhaps she'll have a new appreciation for what I do all day. Doubtful, as she is still a greedy little Iona Pig. Walk me, pet me, feed me. Repeat. So much for getting my desk straightened or my paperwork done.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Toilet Training
Sometimes the most absurd things bring back a memory. Recently we've had some bathroom issues at work. Our once pristine environment has been tainted by strewn tissue and unflushing. We were perplexed. Stumped. What changed? And then it occurred to us...it was the temps. The only new variable we added into the equation was the temporary workforce helping us with email. Why did this seem familiar? Ahhh...yes...know I remember.
But first I must interject and clarify. I am not a public bathroom person. I am not someone who likes to talk about bathrooms or toilets. I find them to be very personal and private places. I do not care for bathroom noises, smells, or intentions. I do not like bodily functions and do not typically like bathroom related humor or discussions. I also have a fear of being trapped in an airplane bathroom, or one at a party, or in a restaurant. Trapped means you have to be freed, and then EVERYONE will know you were in a bathroom and doing bathroom related stuff. It is almost best to remain trapped. Except then you might die in the bathroom and that...oh, that is worse. I just want a clean and private place that i can do my thing quickly, wash my hands and get out as fast, fast, fast as possible.
In Asia (and in many other parts of the world) the plumbing rarely supports a large influx of paper. So people are accustomed to throwing their used toilet paper in waste bins. It isn't typically too awful, as long as the bins are emptied regularly. It is common though to see them overflowing and nasty paper spilling across the floor. I will admit that even in the cleanest bathrooms I can't allow myself to throw the used tissue in a bin. Yuck, no. I will use little and flush. No questions asked and no compromises.
Obviously this was an dilemma I faced everyday while living in Manila. That and the mystery of the broken toilet seats...which is what reminded me of this delightful recent bathroom issue. In several of our buildings, the toilet seats were broken and cracked, or missing. Missing? Who would steal a toilet seat? And where would you put it as you tried to escape the building and security? After months (maybe years) of letting this thing perplex me, I finally broke down and asked our Facilities Director. Knowing what you know about me, you understand why this would be a hard conversation.
Turns out that many of our employees came from small provinces where they didn't typically have toilets. They were used to squatting. So...they stood on top of the toilet seats with their shoes on and squatted. And broke the seats. And then some people actually sat on the seats that were broken and fell in. So the Facilities Director decided to just remove the seats. Yeah. Wow, weird, wrong.
So logic tells me that our temps are from Third World countries like the Philippines. Or that they grew up in the jungles of Guatemala, the deserts of India, or the mountains of West Virginia. Perhaps this is a major leap of faith, but it makes me feel better than just saying they grew up here in the South.
But first I must interject and clarify. I am not a public bathroom person. I am not someone who likes to talk about bathrooms or toilets. I find them to be very personal and private places. I do not care for bathroom noises, smells, or intentions. I do not like bodily functions and do not typically like bathroom related humor or discussions. I also have a fear of being trapped in an airplane bathroom, or one at a party, or in a restaurant. Trapped means you have to be freed, and then EVERYONE will know you were in a bathroom and doing bathroom related stuff. It is almost best to remain trapped. Except then you might die in the bathroom and that...oh, that is worse. I just want a clean and private place that i can do my thing quickly, wash my hands and get out as fast, fast, fast as possible.
In Asia (and in many other parts of the world) the plumbing rarely supports a large influx of paper. So people are accustomed to throwing their used toilet paper in waste bins. It isn't typically too awful, as long as the bins are emptied regularly. It is common though to see them overflowing and nasty paper spilling across the floor. I will admit that even in the cleanest bathrooms I can't allow myself to throw the used tissue in a bin. Yuck, no. I will use little and flush. No questions asked and no compromises.
Obviously this was an dilemma I faced everyday while living in Manila. That and the mystery of the broken toilet seats...which is what reminded me of this delightful recent bathroom issue. In several of our buildings, the toilet seats were broken and cracked, or missing. Missing? Who would steal a toilet seat? And where would you put it as you tried to escape the building and security? After months (maybe years) of letting this thing perplex me, I finally broke down and asked our Facilities Director. Knowing what you know about me, you understand why this would be a hard conversation.
Turns out that many of our employees came from small provinces where they didn't typically have toilets. They were used to squatting. So...they stood on top of the toilet seats with their shoes on and squatted. And broke the seats. And then some people actually sat on the seats that were broken and fell in. So the Facilities Director decided to just remove the seats. Yeah. Wow, weird, wrong.
So logic tells me that our temps are from Third World countries like the Philippines. Or that they grew up in the jungles of Guatemala, the deserts of India, or the mountains of West Virginia. Perhaps this is a major leap of faith, but it makes me feel better than just saying they grew up here in the South.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Screwing with the universe
Michael is still not home, so I did something tonight that I never get to do. I am probably setting myself up for disaster as I am breaking one of the major codes of my weekly pattern. If the sun doesn't rise tomorrow it is so my fault, because I was watching America's Next Top Model in real-time. Yep, a guilty pleasure on a Wednesday night. Now what the heck will I do early Saturday morning when the woof gets me up at 5.30a?
After ANTM I flipped on TLC while I caught up on email. I had no real reason to turn on that channel to begin with, and now I am very annoyed that I did. My ANTM buzz is ruined. Why? "John and Kate, Plus Eight" was on. Was that woman a complete bitch BEFORE she had all those children? Does her husband actually like her? And does he know what a moron he looks like with those hair plugs? Seriously, that is way too many kids.
And then there were the commercials...ugh. While I don't have any real issue with the little people Roloff family, I am confused by a few things. (I should point out that Elizabeth is petrified of midgets, and that makes me want to chase her with one. Chase her with a midget dressed like a clown.) Anyway, the commercial was about an upcoming episode where the Roloff's are doing a remodel that will double the size of their house. Why? Why do little people need a big house? Who is going to clean this big house? They are the messiest people I have ever seen. Just watch for 5 minutes and you'll see crap piled everywhere in their house. Now they will just have more room for more crap. Whatever.
Ok, maybe I was a little harsh. Now TLC is showing the documentary "Painted Babies at 17" about child beauty pageants. Freaking AWESOME. While I know it is totally the fault of the parents, you can't help but want to smack the contestants. I am not sure what is worse...a 3-year-old dressed like Elvis in whore makeup, or a teenager wanting to look like a 3-year-old whore Elvis. The blonde idiot named Asia from Athens, GA is the poster child for tube-tieing. Please don't let her reproduce. Or her sister named Treasure. Yes, Asia and Treasure...the white girls from Georgia.
After ANTM I flipped on TLC while I caught up on email. I had no real reason to turn on that channel to begin with, and now I am very annoyed that I did. My ANTM buzz is ruined. Why? "John and Kate, Plus Eight" was on. Was that woman a complete bitch BEFORE she had all those children? Does her husband actually like her? And does he know what a moron he looks like with those hair plugs? Seriously, that is way too many kids.
And then there were the commercials...ugh. While I don't have any real issue with the little people Roloff family, I am confused by a few things. (I should point out that Elizabeth is petrified of midgets, and that makes me want to chase her with one. Chase her with a midget dressed like a clown.) Anyway, the commercial was about an upcoming episode where the Roloff's are doing a remodel that will double the size of their house. Why? Why do little people need a big house? Who is going to clean this big house? They are the messiest people I have ever seen. Just watch for 5 minutes and you'll see crap piled everywhere in their house. Now they will just have more room for more crap. Whatever.
Ok, maybe I was a little harsh. Now TLC is showing the documentary "Painted Babies at 17" about child beauty pageants. Freaking AWESOME. While I know it is totally the fault of the parents, you can't help but want to smack the contestants. I am not sure what is worse...a 3-year-old dressed like Elvis in whore makeup, or a teenager wanting to look like a 3-year-old whore Elvis. The blonde idiot named Asia from Athens, GA is the poster child for tube-tieing. Please don't let her reproduce. Or her sister named Treasure. Yes, Asia and Treasure...the white girls from Georgia.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
A giddy, giddy girl
Today I am the happiest girl. I found a great flight, at a great rate to Wisconsin over Halloween. If you don't know...Halloween is THE BEST HOLIDAY EVER. Coupled with a family that I adore and miss, I am ecstatic about going home. It is also the birthday week of two of my best friends...Anne and Brandi...HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
And then, if the week couldn't get better, one of my favorite people in the world (and with me I really mean WORLD), is coming to visit in November. My dear, dear friend Amy is coming out for a long weekend and I am already giddy. Amy couldn't care less about sleeping on an air mattress in a guest room with no furniture and boxes as decor. She is fine with sitting on secondhand sofas, as long as there is a wine glass in one hand and a corgi to pet in another. She was my sanity for so many LA days, so I can't wait to have her here. November is setting up to be a glorious month.
To celebrate my happiness, I share the Running of the Iona. Our nine year-old city girl is experiencing life as a momentary free off-leash dog for the first time ever. Sure, she's had backyards to run in...but NEVER a giant baseball field. Here is our corgi acting as the happiest puppy ever. I can relate to that. I too believe in the power of the "Run as Fast as You Can, As Far as You Can, For Absolutely No Reason". Let's run, puppy.
And then, if the week couldn't get better, one of my favorite people in the world (and with me I really mean WORLD), is coming to visit in November. My dear, dear friend Amy is coming out for a long weekend and I am already giddy. Amy couldn't care less about sleeping on an air mattress in a guest room with no furniture and boxes as decor. She is fine with sitting on secondhand sofas, as long as there is a wine glass in one hand and a corgi to pet in another. She was my sanity for so many LA days, so I can't wait to have her here. November is setting up to be a glorious month.
To celebrate my happiness, I share the Running of the Iona. Our nine year-old city girl is experiencing life as a momentary free off-leash dog for the first time ever. Sure, she's had backyards to run in...but NEVER a giant baseball field. Here is our corgi acting as the happiest puppy ever. I can relate to that. I too believe in the power of the "Run as Fast as You Can, As Far as You Can, For Absolutely No Reason". Let's run, puppy.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Will history repeat itself?
So I actually met people over the weekend that Michael had not. I was resting for a few minutes on the front steps drinking a beer when I saw a car drive slowly past the House. They circled the block and then slllooowwwlly drove up to the House again and finally parked. They looked a little old to be casing the joint, so I didn't think much of it. The house directly across the street is also under construction, so people do sometimes get curious.
Our House sits high off the street so I couldn't hear what the couple were talking about, even though their car windows were open. Before long though, the woman yells out the car at me, "I grew up in that house across the street. My husband courted me on that porch!". Way too interesting for me to continue sitting and ignoring them. Down the stairs I went.
Again I think it is important to point out that we meet everyone in our neighborhood when we look like homeless people. We are always in the middle of a project and are dressed in paint-spattered dirty clothes with dust in our hair and bruises covering our arms and legs. Yeah we are the 'cute' couple in your neighborhood that you try and avoid.
Intermission over; back to the story. Turns out that the house across from us started out with only 800 square feet and this nice woman grew up there with her parents and sister. Her husband had indeed courted her on that porch about 47 years ago and she said they would sit out there every night until one of her parents dragged her back into the house. Of course the porch light stayed on the entire time! They owned the house until the late 1990's when her mother died. As I am listening to the sweet stuff, the man suddenly interjects and asks if I knew about the people who owned our House back then. "The man who lived there was a drunk." Ah, ok. At this point I attempt to hide my beer behind my back.
"He used to drink every night, but would really get goin' on the weekend. One Sunday we were going to church and he was layin' again on the front lawn. I asked one of his boys why they didn't drag him back up onto the porch. And you know what he said? He said that was where Daddy always started! Daddy would get goin' drinking on the porch and then decide to go somewhere and fall down the stairs. We worry he is gonna break his neck, so we just leave him down there. Daddy don't seem to mind the grass."
There you have it; face down and drunk on the lawn. So which one of us will repeat history? Michael can certainly drink more, but I am better known as the one to fall down, drunk or sober. I place my bets on the first visit by Elizabeth or Amy. At least I will have company in the grass.
Our House sits high off the street so I couldn't hear what the couple were talking about, even though their car windows were open. Before long though, the woman yells out the car at me, "I grew up in that house across the street. My husband courted me on that porch!". Way too interesting for me to continue sitting and ignoring them. Down the stairs I went.
Again I think it is important to point out that we meet everyone in our neighborhood when we look like homeless people. We are always in the middle of a project and are dressed in paint-spattered dirty clothes with dust in our hair and bruises covering our arms and legs. Yeah we are the 'cute' couple in your neighborhood that you try and avoid.
Intermission over; back to the story. Turns out that the house across from us started out with only 800 square feet and this nice woman grew up there with her parents and sister. Her husband had indeed courted her on that porch about 47 years ago and she said they would sit out there every night until one of her parents dragged her back into the house. Of course the porch light stayed on the entire time! They owned the house until the late 1990's when her mother died. As I am listening to the sweet stuff, the man suddenly interjects and asks if I knew about the people who owned our House back then. "The man who lived there was a drunk." Ah, ok. At this point I attempt to hide my beer behind my back.
"He used to drink every night, but would really get goin' on the weekend. One Sunday we were going to church and he was layin' again on the front lawn. I asked one of his boys why they didn't drag him back up onto the porch. And you know what he said? He said that was where Daddy always started! Daddy would get goin' drinking on the porch and then decide to go somewhere and fall down the stairs. We worry he is gonna break his neck, so we just leave him down there. Daddy don't seem to mind the grass."
There you have it; face down and drunk on the lawn. So which one of us will repeat history? Michael can certainly drink more, but I am better known as the one to fall down, drunk or sober. I place my bets on the first visit by Elizabeth or Amy. At least I will have company in the grass.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Just don't call me normal...in a day of normalcy
Michael left for a conference today, which meant that our second job was cut short. We threw in the shovel around 11a so that he could pack and get ready for his trip. That meant that I had an afternoon to be a normal person! Instead of scraping wallpaper or yanking up wood floors, I walked the dog, went to the market, bought a birthday present for a friend, talked to Anne for about an hour and went to the library. Yes you heard me correctly, I am now the proud owner of a LIBRARY CARD. We have a wonderful little branch of the Wake County Public Library System within walking distance and I just couldn't help myself. I haven't spent any time in a library since I graduated with my MBA, and I forgot how much I missed the place. As I was walking out with my three books, I passed some people and their dogs sitting on park benches and drinking coffee. They were talking and laughing and enjoying the warm fall day. It felt so surreal and unnatural for me. So normal. I keep thinking that this is how our life will eventually be. In the meantime though, let's get back to our reality.
Saturday. Six hours of hard labor made up our day. Michael started by yanking the hundreds of nails from the living room floor. My back and legs hurt so badly after pulling up the floor last week, that I don't think he dared suggest that I complete that task. He then started removing the wall on the other side of the fireplace and taking down one of the mantles. Every step like that makes the vision clearer. I get why we are doing this. The House is literally opening up before our eyes and you can actually see the potential!
While he engaged in wall aggression, I attempted to strip about five layers and 80 years of wallpaper and paint from the foyer. You would think that the glue would have disintegrated by now, but no such luck. I swear that it knows the end is near, so it is holding on for its dear gluey life. The most exciting part of the day came when I did a fabulous gymnastic move while on the ladder. I had great height and form, but completely missed the dismount and landed squarely on my ass. I gave the poor neighbor walking in front of the House a bit of a scare as she saw me flying off the ladder. Fortunately she did not need to call 911...this time. I don't think it is coincidence that I was stripping wallpaper from the rat hole area when I fell. That corner is possessed. Seriously, the rat demon has it in for me.
Saturday. Six hours of hard labor made up our day. Michael started by yanking the hundreds of nails from the living room floor. My back and legs hurt so badly after pulling up the floor last week, that I don't think he dared suggest that I complete that task. He then started removing the wall on the other side of the fireplace and taking down one of the mantles. Every step like that makes the vision clearer. I get why we are doing this. The House is literally opening up before our eyes and you can actually see the potential!
While he engaged in wall aggression, I attempted to strip about five layers and 80 years of wallpaper and paint from the foyer. You would think that the glue would have disintegrated by now, but no such luck. I swear that it knows the end is near, so it is holding on for its dear gluey life. The most exciting part of the day came when I did a fabulous gymnastic move while on the ladder. I had great height and form, but completely missed the dismount and landed squarely on my ass. I gave the poor neighbor walking in front of the House a bit of a scare as she saw me flying off the ladder. Fortunately she did not need to call 911...this time. I don't think it is coincidence that I was stripping wallpaper from the rat hole area when I fell. That corner is possessed. Seriously, the rat demon has it in for me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)