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Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Feeling Violated

The people in my office building are serious violators of what I believe is the unspoken universal bathroom code: never EVER sit in the stall directly next to an occupied stall unless that is your only option. All of the bathrooms in our building have three stalls. I always take an end stall so that, should someone else come in to the bathroom, they can leave the standard one stall buffer. But, nobody in the building ever observes this standard courtesy and it’s starting to DRIVE ME NUTS. That’s all, thank you.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Help for the clueless

I finally have a real desk…you know, with drawers and stuff. So…here’s the big question. What sorts of things do people fill their drawers with? I’ve been surviving with the bare minimum because my former, temporary “desk” had no drawers. I had a cup of pens, and little tiny stacking tray contraption which held things like post-its, binder clips and white out. I also have paper clips, tape, a stapler, scissors and the ever important rubber thumb (which I found yesterday and took for comic value). What other things do normal people have in their desks?

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Off-campus lunch for high schoolers is the worst idea EVER.

Oh my god. Shoot me now if this is what lunch time has in store for me for the rest of the school year. Most of the school districts in the vicinty of my office just started school yesterday or today, and all of them, apparently, have off-campus lunch privileges. Yesterday, there were about 40 HS students all crammed into the cafeteria section at Target. They were loud and obnoxious and running all over the place like idiots. Today I went to Jimmy Johns, in the other direction from the office. Different school district, same deal. Except Jimmy Johns is a narrower space, and all these kids had on backpacks...so I almost got taken out by somebody's math, chemistry and history books about 12 times. Seriously, it's the first day of school. Do you really need to carry a full back pack to lunch with you? If this is what the overacheivers look like, I'd hate to see how the less academically motivated kids act in public.

Oh man...I'm getting old. I just hope my kid doesn't act like a moron when he grows up.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Tis better to be 5 minutes late than to be 1 minute early

I have a problem. It involves getting to work early. I just can't do it. I can get to work on time or late with no problem, but I just can't be early. For example, it takes me about 10 minutes to get from daycare to my office. Let's say I drop Eric off and get back to the car at 8:47. I would not physically be able to resist the temptation to stop and get coffee. You know, because I have three minutes. Even though it probably takes 5 or more minutes to get coffee. And then, not only am I walking into the office late, but I'm walking in late with coffee. Which always makes a good impression, I think. Today at lunch time, I went to Target. I made a couple of returns, ate lunch there and picked up a few odds and ends. I looked at my watch and saw that it was 12:40. Last time I was at that Target, it took me a hundred and forty-two minutes to check out, so I decided to head to the check-out aisle. Due to a combination of both my watch and the check-out lanes running fast, I got in my car at 12:42. I sat there for a moment and thought, "I have a few extra minutes. What else should I do?" It was the first time in a long time that I really couldn't think of anything to do. I contemplated stopping at Starbucks or Baskin Robins and getting a frapuccino or the Baskin Robins equivalent. But, I was still full from lunch, neither of those places were really on my way back to the office and I didn't really need extra calories or $4 hit to the old pocketbook. So, I came back to the office, talked to the new attorney for several minutes about where there was to eat in the area and now I'm blogging. So, you see, I'm still not working. But when you're sitting at your desk, typing away, nobody seems to question you. Unfortunately, next week, I'm moving to a new desk, which is on the main drag here in the office, and my back and computer will face the aisle so that all who walk by will be able to clearly see what I'm doing. I'm not looking forward to that at all. I do not like the feeling of people looking over my shoulders. And I do not like having to be productive at all times. Yuck.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

It's not because I don't have anything to say...

No, no, don't be fooled by the lack of posts--I still have plenty to say. I just don't have time to say it, that's all. I've been having a hard time balancing work and family and house cleaning and everything else, and lately, sleep wins over blogging. But, most likely, I've been talking in my sleep to make up for it. Hopefully I say interesting things and you all enjoy them immensely. Nothing would make me happier.

In other news, that kid that I have--the one that I never write about anymore? He's still cute and stuff. He's turning into a big boy, and all too quickly, might I add. Although we've had very cute monkey bedding for his "big boy bed" (meaning a twin or full sized bed which conspicuously lacks rails with which to prevent him from having a middle-of-the-night free-for-all in his bedroom, or worse, trying to come into our bed) for a few months now, I think we've decided to hold off on moving him into a new bed until sometime this winter. Yesterday, though, I made the first step in turning his crib into a more boyish, rather than babyish, bed. I bought him Cars sheets and a fleece throw from Target. Last night, I removed all of his adorable pastel jungle animal bedding from his crib and put on the cars.

At one point, because I'm not a masochist, I took off one side rail on the crib, so that I could reach the mattress without the added fun possibility of puncturing a lung or rupturing my spleen. After I got his new sheets put on, but before I put the side rail back up, Eric came to investigate. I think his initial thought was that we would be leaving the side rail off, and to tell you the truth, Chris and I actually contemplated the idea. Once we saw that Eric's take on the situation was, "Cool! Now I can jump off my bed!!!" we decided against it for the time being. Actually, in the near future, I do plan to take the crib rail off, but not until I can find a shorter bed rail that I can attach to the bed to keep him from falling out at night. I tried the crib rail at the lowest setting, but that seemed just low enough that he would try to climb over, but just high enough that he would possibly get stuck or hurt himself.

In any case, Eric seems to be very excited by this new development. Both last night and this morning, he kept telling us, "I got a race car blankie!" Although, he does still seem torn by the excitement of the race car blanket and the familiarity of his old "bonkie." Not wanting to hurt bonkie's feelings, he's been carrying them both around the house together. Hopefully they'll get to be friends.

Well, something's telling me that now would be a good time to get back to work. I do have more to say, though. Just remember that.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Hair styles of the ill-advised

This morning, as I was driving to work, I was stopped at a red light next to a hispanic woman. I glanced over and saw that she had her hair pulled back into a tight, high pony tail. By having her hair pulled up like that, I could see that she had the bottom inch or two of her scalp (neck) completely shaved. She also had shaved off her "side burns," except she went a little too high, giving the appearance of both an awkward hair line and a five o'clock shadow where she had shaved. It was a really odd look, and beside the strange haircut, she didn't appear that she was trying to make any kind of particular statement with her clothes or makeup. What makes people do those kind of things? Maybe she just couldn't get the pony tail high or tight enough with all that hair? I can certainly understand that.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Good grammar costs nothing

I hope, hope, hope that the lyrics of that SOS song by Rihanna are "Y-O-U are making this hard," and NOT "Y-O-U-R making this hard."

And also, the question Chris and I pondered on vacation: would a self-loving black person be caught dead eating at the Cracker Barrel?