It's Monday again. Time to drag my ass into the office after a weekend of relaxation, and 5 minutes early to boot, so I can be seated for the weekly staff meeting which almost always starts a minute early. It's kind of pretty outside right now - the sky is partly cloudy, casting an even glow on the trees which are at the peak of their autumn color. Unfortunately it will turn to rain this evening, just in time for the drive home in the black gloom of Standard Time. I really need to get my fat ass to the gym, but darkness, cold, and rain make me want to slip into my PJs and sink into the old yellow gingham easy chair under my warm, soft Avoca wool blanket.
I wish I were doing that right now. These autumn days, when the sunlight grows scarce and the chills blow in, all I want to do is hunker down at home and not go anywhere, especially not to the office. At least today I have a reprieve from the bug-in-a-bell jar feeling. My supervisor is on vacation right now, and boy do I love it when she's not here. Today, I know she won't be flitting back and forth, glancing at my screen every time she walks by my cube. I can take longer breaks without worrying about whether she's looking for me. Best of all, I can slip out 15 minutes early and no one notices. There's really no point to my being here the last 30 minutes of the workday anyway. Hell, most days when I leave early, the receptionist has already locked up and gone home. My supervisor goofs off, too - many times I've seen her shopping online or dicking around on Facebook. God, I just want to go home and spend the day watching TV or working on digitizing old family photos. Shit! I should have brought them to the office. With my supervisor out, nobody would see what I was doing.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Poor man's limousine
We had two fire alarms just this week at my office. I'm not sure whether either or both were genuine alarms or mere drills. In previous years, drills seem to have occurred only in bitter cold weather, which set me adrift in a cloud of wishful thinking. I began to long for a sort of poor man's limousine, a personal vehicle with a comfortable rear seating area and no body modifications.
Such a vehicle would be a quiet little refuge where I could take in a few precious moments of solitude during such forced evacuations, or just during a stolen moment in the course of the work day, where I would sit warm and comfortable, shielded from the elements and the inane banter of office drones. Drawing inspiration from luxurious "mobile office" affairs, my poor man's limo would appear from the outside to be an ordinary SUV such as a Ford Expedition, but the inside would boast a veritable mobile living room. I would remove the back seat and leave the factory third row bench, covering unsightly mounting holes with a carpet. I would construct a divider behind the driver's seat for that limo feel, but I probably wouldn't go so far as to include a motorized partition, opting for a curtain instead, as a throwback to the limousines of old. Ultra-dark tinted windows would be essential for privacy, and on an SUV, would be within the state's tint laws. Behind the divider would be a little cabinet, possibly with a mini fridge and assorted glassware. Of course I would install an LCD monitor (20 inches or so) and hook up a TV tuner for over-the-air broadcasts. I'd definitely equip it with mobile wi-fi and an iPad for casual web surfing, and also have a connector for the iPad so I could play videos on the big screen.
If I had additional funds, I would equip the car with twin sets of police scanners and CB radios—one set accessible when driving, the other accessible from the rear seating area. A remote starter would allow me to warm up the car on cold days, ensuring that it's toasty warm by the time I get inside. I would install a wireless printer/scanner/copier, plus an assortment of paper stocks and cutting tools, just in case I get the urge or need to create something while I'm out and about. One bonus feature, which all the executive mobile office limousines I've seen seem to lack, would be a single-cup coffee/hot beverage maker (think Keurig).
Oh, imagine a cold, blustery January morn, when the fire alarm shrieks and all the gastropods slither out of the building to freeze in the parking lot. Meanwhile, I would crank up the heater by remote control, climb in, and fire up the Keurig. Instead of a movie I would play a video of a crackling fireplace on the 20" screen, and ease back with a cup of hot coffee, haughtily observing the huddled masses from my warm little cocoon behind the dark tinted windows. Perhaps if I were feeling exceptionally generous I would invite a lucky co-worker to join me.
Such a vehicle would be a quiet little refuge where I could take in a few precious moments of solitude during such forced evacuations, or just during a stolen moment in the course of the work day, where I would sit warm and comfortable, shielded from the elements and the inane banter of office drones. Drawing inspiration from luxurious "mobile office" affairs, my poor man's limo would appear from the outside to be an ordinary SUV such as a Ford Expedition, but the inside would boast a veritable mobile living room. I would remove the back seat and leave the factory third row bench, covering unsightly mounting holes with a carpet. I would construct a divider behind the driver's seat for that limo feel, but I probably wouldn't go so far as to include a motorized partition, opting for a curtain instead, as a throwback to the limousines of old. Ultra-dark tinted windows would be essential for privacy, and on an SUV, would be within the state's tint laws. Behind the divider would be a little cabinet, possibly with a mini fridge and assorted glassware. Of course I would install an LCD monitor (20 inches or so) and hook up a TV tuner for over-the-air broadcasts. I'd definitely equip it with mobile wi-fi and an iPad for casual web surfing, and also have a connector for the iPad so I could play videos on the big screen.
If I had additional funds, I would equip the car with twin sets of police scanners and CB radios—one set accessible when driving, the other accessible from the rear seating area. A remote starter would allow me to warm up the car on cold days, ensuring that it's toasty warm by the time I get inside. I would install a wireless printer/scanner/copier, plus an assortment of paper stocks and cutting tools, just in case I get the urge or need to create something while I'm out and about. One bonus feature, which all the executive mobile office limousines I've seen seem to lack, would be a single-cup coffee/hot beverage maker (think Keurig).
Oh, imagine a cold, blustery January morn, when the fire alarm shrieks and all the gastropods slither out of the building to freeze in the parking lot. Meanwhile, I would crank up the heater by remote control, climb in, and fire up the Keurig. Instead of a movie I would play a video of a crackling fireplace on the 20" screen, and ease back with a cup of hot coffee, haughtily observing the huddled masses from my warm little cocoon behind the dark tinted windows. Perhaps if I were feeling exceptionally generous I would invite a lucky co-worker to join me.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Free chairs came at quite a cost
This past weekend we made another trip to our beloved seaside retreat, not just for play, but also to retrieve a pair of easy chairs for our repainted living room. The grandparents had bought a pair of new recliners for the beach condo, so this weekend we went down there to pick up the old ones. The grandparents were down there as well, so we figured it would be a chance for some fun quality time.
Merciful God, what an ordeal! Granny, as you probably know, has a very impulsive nature, and also likes to make everything as complicated as possible. She brought enough food for an army, including a whole ham, 3 loaves of bread, a pumpkin pie, and various cheeses and snacks. That doesn't sound bad at first, but Saturday and Sunday morning she insisted on everyone having a big, complicated breakfast together involving eggs cooked to order. So we lost probably 2 hours each morning in all the preparation, consumption, and cleaning up. When we're down there by ourselves, we relax with some coffee for a while before eating simple cereal and fruit. We don't throw ourselves into cooking up a feast first thing when we get up.
The new chairs were supposed to be delivered in the morning, but after a few hours we called and they said it would be closer to 2PM. So we started to go across the street to get hot dogs for lunch, but just as we were leaving the building, the truck showed up. Then came the whole production of getting the chairs inside and getting the old ones loaded into our SUV.
And what of the new recliners? Bloody awful. They're stiff, have hard wooden arms, sit too high, don't lean back far enough, and are upholstered in bright red faux suede. When you think beach house, do you think red suede? Another impulsive Granny purchase. I love having the old easy chairs at home, but I'll definitely miss them on future trips to the beach.
Then Granny had everyone sit down at the table again for a big lunch, even though we had dinner reservations in 4 hours. I had planned on chilling out for a while that afternoon reading or napping, but Granny got cabin fever and had us drive her to some stupid furniture store just to look around for 10 minutes. She wound up impulse-buying a bunch of linen napkins when she probably already has a hundred similar ones at home.
Did I mention how long it takes to get Granny in and out of the car? She shuffles along using a walker, and Granddaddy has to back the car up to the door and help slooooowly hoist her in, then fold up the walker and load it in the back. Then it takes forever for her to ease herself out of the car.
We got back from that outing at 5 and my wife told Granny she'd take the first shower so she could have time to dry her hair. About 30 seconds after she'd turned the water off, Granny knocked and said "OK, can I get in there now?" Couldn't wait 5 goddamn minutes for her to dry off and brush her hair! So she had to gather up her hairbrush and makeup and scurry out dripping wet wearing only a towel. At 5:10. Over an hour before we had to leave for dinner. And I overheard Granny say to Granddaddy "why did she get the first shower?" ARRRRGH!
Dinner Saturday night was great, but we were so tired from the day's activities that we stayed in instead of going out bar-hopping. After another huge, time-consuming breakfast on Sunday, we launched into helping the grandparents get ready to leave. Granny decided to pack up a tea set and some other items at the condo to take back home with her, as if she doesn't already have a dozen fucking tea sets at home. We had to wipe down the dining table after all those grandiose family meals. Granddaddy decided it was a good time to vacuum the slats on the closet doors and the carpet in the hall, despite the fact that the fucking cleaning lady was coming the next day. Oh yes, the cleaning lady doesn't do laundry, so we had to wash our towels and sheets. Had we known that, we would have brought our own, but, oh wait, we had to sleep in the room with the twin beds, for which we do not own sheets, so we had to use Granny's twin sheets. Granny travels with a potty chair. And a big wooden box just for her jewelry. So all their crap and the additional crap Granny packed up took up two luggage carts.
They left at 1:30. Peace at last! We figured we'd grab some Mexican food for lunch, but as soon as we sat down, my wife got a message that she had to be at work at 7AM, so fuck it, we just packed up and left town. We had to leave at 2:30 anyway in order to be home before dark thanks to the return of Standard Time and its evil 6PM sunset.
That was a fuckload of trouble for a free pair of easy chairs and a free dinner at our favorite restaurant.
Merciful God, what an ordeal! Granny, as you probably know, has a very impulsive nature, and also likes to make everything as complicated as possible. She brought enough food for an army, including a whole ham, 3 loaves of bread, a pumpkin pie, and various cheeses and snacks. That doesn't sound bad at first, but Saturday and Sunday morning she insisted on everyone having a big, complicated breakfast together involving eggs cooked to order. So we lost probably 2 hours each morning in all the preparation, consumption, and cleaning up. When we're down there by ourselves, we relax with some coffee for a while before eating simple cereal and fruit. We don't throw ourselves into cooking up a feast first thing when we get up.
The new chairs were supposed to be delivered in the morning, but after a few hours we called and they said it would be closer to 2PM. So we started to go across the street to get hot dogs for lunch, but just as we were leaving the building, the truck showed up. Then came the whole production of getting the chairs inside and getting the old ones loaded into our SUV.
And what of the new recliners? Bloody awful. They're stiff, have hard wooden arms, sit too high, don't lean back far enough, and are upholstered in bright red faux suede. When you think beach house, do you think red suede? Another impulsive Granny purchase. I love having the old easy chairs at home, but I'll definitely miss them on future trips to the beach.
Then Granny had everyone sit down at the table again for a big lunch, even though we had dinner reservations in 4 hours. I had planned on chilling out for a while that afternoon reading or napping, but Granny got cabin fever and had us drive her to some stupid furniture store just to look around for 10 minutes. She wound up impulse-buying a bunch of linen napkins when she probably already has a hundred similar ones at home.
Did I mention how long it takes to get Granny in and out of the car? She shuffles along using a walker, and Granddaddy has to back the car up to the door and help slooooowly hoist her in, then fold up the walker and load it in the back. Then it takes forever for her to ease herself out of the car.
We got back from that outing at 5 and my wife told Granny she'd take the first shower so she could have time to dry her hair. About 30 seconds after she'd turned the water off, Granny knocked and said "OK, can I get in there now?" Couldn't wait 5 goddamn minutes for her to dry off and brush her hair! So she had to gather up her hairbrush and makeup and scurry out dripping wet wearing only a towel. At 5:10. Over an hour before we had to leave for dinner. And I overheard Granny say to Granddaddy "why did she get the first shower?" ARRRRGH!
Dinner Saturday night was great, but we were so tired from the day's activities that we stayed in instead of going out bar-hopping. After another huge, time-consuming breakfast on Sunday, we launched into helping the grandparents get ready to leave. Granny decided to pack up a tea set and some other items at the condo to take back home with her, as if she doesn't already have a dozen fucking tea sets at home. We had to wipe down the dining table after all those grandiose family meals. Granddaddy decided it was a good time to vacuum the slats on the closet doors and the carpet in the hall, despite the fact that the fucking cleaning lady was coming the next day. Oh yes, the cleaning lady doesn't do laundry, so we had to wash our towels and sheets. Had we known that, we would have brought our own, but, oh wait, we had to sleep in the room with the twin beds, for which we do not own sheets, so we had to use Granny's twin sheets. Granny travels with a potty chair. And a big wooden box just for her jewelry. So all their crap and the additional crap Granny packed up took up two luggage carts.
They left at 1:30. Peace at last! We figured we'd grab some Mexican food for lunch, but as soon as we sat down, my wife got a message that she had to be at work at 7AM, so fuck it, we just packed up and left town. We had to leave at 2:30 anyway in order to be home before dark thanks to the return of Standard Time and its evil 6PM sunset.
That was a fuckload of trouble for a free pair of easy chairs and a free dinner at our favorite restaurant.
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