After the Deluge
Nothing like being almost at work, juggling bag of food, 32oz drink (I wisely avoided the 44oz, which would have been even harder to juggle), and umbrella as it suddenly starts to pour–and then the wind starts to blow as well, rendering said umbrella useless. After two blocks, I looked as if I’d jumped in a swimming pool. (I’m guessing that’s what I looked like. I do not frequent swimming pools.) I arrived with soaked socks, squelchy shoes, and my chicken tenders had been dipped in my blackberry cobbler (and I am normally opposed to foods touching each other on my plate). There remained only a slow and lingering death by air conditioning. But an ANGEL OF MERCY, my co-worker Princess Carol, offered to run me back home to change clothes, which was approved by the Powers That Be. The only thing that wasn’t wet was my bra, so the umbrella wasn’t completely useless. (I believe sitting around in a wet bra causes you to get mildew.) Of course, it then took us an hour and a half to deal with (minor) emergencies brought about by, at most, five minutes of storm.
I STILL CAN’T KEEP MY CLOTHES DRY
The day before yesterday, I spilled cola on myself. Yesterday, I spilled banana malt on myself. I can’t wait to see what type of fluid today will bring. (“You had a banana malt? And I didn’t even get to eat dinner??” Nick says, and begins to wail. Well, most days he gets an undisturbed hour to eat, and I don’t get any dinner, and have to work while I eat if I do, so he can just suck it, or munch it, or whatever it is he does with his type of mouthparts.)
FRIENDS DON’T LET FRIENDS…DO ANY NUMBER OF THINGS
No sooner had I observed that “Everyone loves a smartass” yesterday, or whenever it was I last wrote–I saw a sentiment on Facebook to “Stop Hating Smartasses.” We supposedly perform some useful function in society. It finished with “Born With a Smirk. Smartass for Life.” (I’m inclined to substitute “Until Death,” since people want to wipe the smirk off our faces.) But I thought, What a cool statement! Nick & I can get matching tattoos! When I suggested this, he growled, “Not for all the ride-alongs in the world.” He is no fun. But he was just cranky because he didn’t have a banana malt like I had. I had a greasy cheeseburger, too. I’m sure I enjoyed consuming it more than he enjoyed escorting drunks to jail. Life is hard sometimes.