On the way home from work yesterday, there was a 10 minute period where my husband and I had a conversation about DNA testing dog crap that pet owners fail to pick up.
Him: Wait, that’s a thing?!? Noooooo!
Me: It is. Some communities are very serious about keeping clean.
Him: I would find one of these neighborhoods and drop a deuce on their lawn. Then I might let my dog do it too. No, you know what? I’d go to the zoo and steal tiger shit and start flinging that everywhere.
Me: Hah! Monkey poo.
Him: Rhino dung.
Me: You should start with something mundane like cow dung and just get progressively more ridiculous until you’re leaving giraffe turds everywhere.
Him: Too much effort.
Me: Yeah, but can you imagine the community newsletter?
Him: *snort* Yeah. “We don’t want to unduly alarm anyone, but DNA samples suggest that there’s a polar bear on the loose. We can assure you that we’re doing everything in our power to hunt down this heinous animal befouling our lawns.”
I don’t even know how we got on the subject, but this is how we roll…
It’s still pretty quiet on the midwestern front here, so I haven’t posted much lately. Instead, I’ve been using this slow time to tackle a project I’ve been meaning to do for a year: adding my rather enormous catalog of recipes to the website in their own special section. It’s taken a few days already just to get the infrastructure set up and I’ve finished postings for exactly two categories: Appetizers and Breakfast. Sometime between now and my birthday, I hope to get them all input and then just add a recipe or two as I stumble upon something interesting. Meanwhile, I’ve got a little bit of everything posted to the main pages just to make sure everything looks right. You can keep checking in every few days to see my progress, but if it stays slow, I should have everything posted within two weeks.
Of course, progress is always hindered in some way and I found out today that it hasn’t really been as slow in the office as we initially thought. Something went horribly wrong somewhere in the past two weeks because there have been no voice mail messages for longer than I can remember, and I’ll usually have at least 1-2 over the weekend. But then I had 3 people call and say that they left messages over the weekend. I trust two of those people, so I logged into the system manually and lo and behold – there were THIRTY- FIVE new messages, some dating all the way back to February 22nd. Most of the messages were just run of the mill little stuff, or people who called again during business hours, but some of them were pretty time sensitive. Thankfully, those people also called us during normal business hours, or we may have been in a world of hurt. Or confusion.
Actually, hurt and confusion are just the default forecast for this office, so we wouldn’t have been too far gone.
Anyway, thirty-five messages takes about 25 minutes to go through if you listen to the whole message. I listened to about 15 seconds and then deleted them if they were already handled, but it still took about 15 minutes to get through all of them. Even the voice who ticks off the message info was irritated by the process. It started with the usual sweet voice:
“You have .. thirty. five. new voice messages. First voice message-”
But as I slogged through the various messages, she started getting pissy.
*curt voice* “Eleventh. new. voice message-”
*implied undertone of disappointment* “Eighteenth. new. voice message.”
*decidedly judgmental tone* “TWENTY. EIGHTH. new. voice message!”
After the thirtieth message, she resigned herself to defeat and didn’t even bother counting anymore.
*sigh*”Next message.” “Next message.” “Next Message.”
But I suppose it wouldn’t be a Monday if I weren’t being judged by someone.
And just to end on a weird not, somewhere in the middle of my Monday, I had the following conversation with my husband via text:
Me: I picked up some more coffee.
Him: Ok. You give me a ride home?
Me: It’ll be after 5:00, but sure. I pick you up, or you walk over here?
Him: Oh, that’s right. I’ll just walk home. Don’t worry about it.
Keep in mind that we live about 3.5 miles from our places of employment and we’ve got 6-10 more inches of snow scheduled. It’s not exactly strolling weather.
Me: …You’re not walking home.
Him: Fine. Pick me up here.
Me. Okay. Where is your bus pass?
Him: In my wallet. Why?
Me: Why would you even think to walk home instead of riding the bus?
Him: …I meant walk home from the bus stop. I ain’t walkin’ to Fitchburg. Girl, you cray cray.
Me: You’re the one with the distinct inability to clarify.
Him: It’s not like my doctorate is in English.
Me: So proud of you for learning how to spell doctor though.
Him: I brain good.