I won't be falling asleep at work this week

Scene I: Last Monday, 5:45 AM: My cell phone rings. I’ve been on vacation for a week, so one of my employees calls me to let me know that we don’t have any heat at work, that the damage is bad but they have an estimated completion date: February. We’re on less than 50% of our boiler capacity for the entire building for 10 weeks, because the one boiler that is working isn’t working correctly. Time to break out the scarves & fingerless gloves. And the hot chocolate. And maybe the party supplies – parties always warm me up. Scene II: Tuesday, 7 AM: I’m at work and find out that my room is next in the Great Library Recarpeting Adventure of 2009. Nothing goes out of our room except for the old carpet. We’re just moving stuff around the room for the entire week like squirrels re-arranging their winter acorn supply, working around the guys. I would say “like deck chairs on the Titanic”, but no one has actually died (yet) from the fumes of A) the old glue under the old carpet, B) the new glue for the new carpet, and/or C) The disgusting sludge that mysteriously appeared in one spot when the old carpet was ripped out. Also, the tiny particles that have infiltrated my lungs make me wonder if I’ve just discovered what it’s like to breathe fiberglass, but I’m kind of afraid to find out the answer to that question, so I just keep those thoughts to myself. And another Also: can mold spores start growing in your lungs? Mold likes warm, damp places, so if I were mold, I think lungs would be a good place to make a home. Unless the fiberglass got there first and beat me up. Scene III: Thursday afternoon: Staring at my inbox, an encouraging email arrives. In a nutshell it says “We think you’re getting too complacent with how things are going this week, so while some work is being done in another part of the building, the power will randomly shut off and on starting Monday, expected to be finished in 2 weeks. This will affect the functioning of the fire alarm, causing you to want to rip out your ear drums. Have a nice weekend!” Scene IV: Today, Monday, 0730: I walk into the office. There’s no heat, the new carpet is 85% installed, my lungs remind me that they emptied themselves of mold & fiberglass over the weekend for a reason – namely, so I can breathe – and the power is out for half the hallway & 4 cubicles, and the fire alarm isn’t working correctly, it has in fact decided to amuse itself by randomly going off for 5-6 minutes at a time. My cubicle has power (Yay?) – but the email server, internet server & [Library Software You’ve Never Heard Of] server are all down. Meaning: No emailing, cataloging, book ordering, random internet surfing or other type of work will be done until at least one of them is back up and running. So, in things I'm grateful for this week: A) Dear Baby Jesus, I’m glad we lost heat in the winter rather than A/C in the summer; B) Did I mention our old carpet was oozing, so it was kinda fun to see what was underneath of there – especially since the oozing spot is on the far end of the room from me and I can yell “Hey, Sue! How’s your ooze today?” at random points in time; C) Everyone needs an interrupted power supply at some point to make them grateful to Al Gore for creating the Internets. The malfunctioning fire alarm – the bell for which resides on the wall over my cubicle – can go to hell, though.

It's like that time that I thought I was dying from food poisoning. Only worse.

It was an eventful week at work (nothing bad, just lots of crazy), culminating in a late Friday night snow shower that disappeared before I woke up this morning - which, admittedly, was a little later than anyone wanting to see snow should have been in bed. But all of this is meaningless, in light of what happened to me at the mechanic this morning. Mike wasn't there. I called a few days ago to let him know to order the Top-Secret-Super-Special Oil that my Prius takes. Everything seemed fine. Normal. He didn't ask to take today off, didn't tell me that he was putting some unknown woman behind the desk to take the key out of my hand. I walked in and was immediately confused and unsure. It took me a long time to find Mike. I'm not ready to break up with him yet. Oh, the pain! Oh my breaking heart! So my car is in the hands of someone named Lora. A nice woman, sure, with a great smile. She's still learning the computer system, so it took awhile. That didn't bother me, because I was frantically peering through the window into the shop, scanning to see if Mike was halfway under a hood or fondling someone else's engine. (Oddly enough, no one found a woman staring at a garage full of mechanics note worthy. Have I not been following protocol all the times that I *didn't* ogle the men?). Luckily for my nerves one of the mechanics was with her. Somehow* he knew who I was, knew about the Top-Secret-Super-Special Oil that my Prius takes and that it had been ordered this week, knew that I wasn't going to stay in the waiting room. He knew my routine. He remembered my old car. He's not Mike. But he'll do. For now. *It's the cookies. It seems I always go in there in December, so I usually bring them cookies when I pick my car up. Everyone deserves cookies in December. Especially if you're working on my car. Not-Mike is definitely getting cookies today. I can't take any chances right now, with Mike gone. My heart is too fragile. Update: Oh Noes! They finished with my car in record time - 1 hour instead of 3-4, so I didn't have time to bake them cookies. I'm getting a bad-car-karma feeling in my stomach that exactly matches the pain in my heart over Mike's defection.

The Professor

The Professor is the faculty advisor for a fraternity. Meaning: He goes to weekly meetings, yells at them when they make bad grades, and takes me to fraternity parties. Really: What 32 year old is still going to frat parties? At the meeting tonight, they passed around a piece of paper labeled: "I love The Professor because..." A couple of my favorite answers: " He has an epic mustache." "I can see my reflection in his head." There was more, but those are my 2 favorite. For the record: I, too, love his mustache and his shiny head.

Message?

At 3 random places around the city today, I've heard 3 different people whistling/humming "If I only had a brain". How am I supposed to interpret that?

Mind Games

Whenever I run across the movie "Forbidden Planet" in the DirecTV guide (which has been quite often lately), the opening song of The Rocky Horror Picture Show gets stuck in my head.

Wondering Why

It's 63 degrees outside. My windows are open and I'm loving the weather, sitting on my back porch with a glass of wine. The neighbor's air conditioner just kicked on. What the hell temperature is it in their house?

No-Longer-Suppressed Rant*

Really, people? You're upset because the president wants to give your kids an inspirational message? A message to stay in school, work hard, study, be involved, and give a damn about the world? You're afraid to let your kids hear that? I almost wish I had kids. So that I could point to the president and say "see him? See this man? See what he's made of himself? TRY HARDER". Obviously, the unraveling of society as we know it will happen in 30.6 seconds after kids hear a person of authority telling them to set their sights high. To make the world a better place. BECAUSE WE LIKE THE WORLD THE WAY IT IS, DAMMIT, AND YOU DAMN KIDS SHOULDN'T DREAM. And like the kids are going to pay attention anyway. They're counting down the minutes til they can go to recess and play whatever "throw the ball at the unpopular kid" is all the rage these days. Indoctrination? Cult of Personality? I need more wine. *This rant comes to you courtesy of some things I've seen on Facebook, and the fact that I don't want to pick fights with strangers on a mutual friends wall. But let me assure you: THEY'RE WRONG.

77

The Blessed Year I was born. The High temperature today. Either one of these could be the reason that I love the number 77. That is all.

Taking "There Were Never Such Devoted Sisters" To A Whole New Level

I seem to have a psychic connection with one of my older sisters. It's kinda freaky sometimes, but - luckily - I happen to like her an awful lot, so occasionally sharing a brain isn't a strain. The examples of this are almost endless, but take tonight for instance. I've been puttering in my kitchen for about 45 minutes, making Chicken Tikka Masala. I made it for the first time when I was at her place last week, and I wanted to work on the recipe so I can post it online. Then, about 10 minutes ago, I check Facebook and see my sister has put up:

I really wish there were someone here to cook me Chicken Tikka Masala.

Have I mentioned we're over 400 miles apart? That I never mentioned what I was going to cook? So, I cook and she craves. Now I have to experiment with this. Maybe tomorrow I'll make a big pot of red sauce and some homemade garlic herb bread. If that doesn't get her attention, nothing will.

The Post That Has Been Demanded By Many*

*Where "Many" = "More Than One" So, awhile ago, I commenced on "Operation Make The Professor's Head Explode With Fervent Re-Decorating", as a result of an overload of HGTV Watching. While The Professor's head is still very much intact, I'm claiming victory because dear Flying Spaghetti Monster am I in love with my living/dining room now. Since only a select few - The Chosen, if you will - have had the glory of seeing my* creation, we'll take a little tour of my new living space.

 *it wasn't really all mine, I needed The Bestest Friend's help and reassurance every step of the way, because I was convinced I was going to create a room that no one but me wanted to step foot in. She assures me that she still enjoys putting a step in. Maybe even two.

 I wish I had before shots, but I don't. I completely re-arranged the furniture and painted the walls. The Professor ripped up the carpet, and we had laminate put down. Then I - with the BFFs help - commenced the decorating. I found some amazing deals, and...well, let's just look at pictures, hmm? Let's go ahead and acknowledge that I need to learn to compensate for all the sunshine coming through the windows. Looking at the front door: I love those blue curtains. They make my heart sing every time I see them. Side view of that corner, just because I love the way that little print looks over there. In case you couldn't guess, that's the fireplace. And just because I love it so much, that's the painting above the fireplace, with a close up of the ceiling fan pull just for kicks. The long wall that has the TV station. It looks amazingly blank here, but much better in real life. You'll just have to trust me. (For Those of you who are The Chosen: That's the wall the couch was on before.) Looking from the front door towards the dining room & kitchen. Funny side story: When The Professor saw the blue pillow he asked why I chose to decorate our living room like a bordello. He actually used the word "bordello". I think he is the first person to do that this century. That's across from the dining room table, our little "office area", where no office-type work is ever done. Only many, many games of Mah-Jong. And finally, looking from the kitchen through both rooms. I'm not technically sure if you can even call it two rooms, but I do, so you will too. I'm wondering if I should finish the kitchen. I painted one wall blue a year and a half ago, and now I Want to paint the rest of it a lighter shade. But...that would require crawling all over the cabinets, which would be drastically against my lazy lifestyle. I may have to over-indulge on HGTV again to find the motivation. Maybe in 3 or 4 years, I'll get around to that.