Stop Talking.

So yesterday afternoon a memo circulated around my office stating that, due to necessary replacement of a water main, our office wouldn’t have running water during working hours. And then there was a list of nearby places who would have running water that offered to let us pee at their building for the day instead.

Which basically should’ve led to me emailing my boss to tell him that I would not be at work on Wednesday. Or, more precisely, I’d be in NYC and about a block away from work, but in the nearby bathroom most of the day because I pee every hour since hydration is important and maybe my kidneys are malfunctioning due to over-watering? Either way, don’t expect productivity out of me today, career, because I’ll be busy remembering the three-digit passcode associated with the down-the-street bathroom on the 9^th floor that inexplicably is passcode protected from all of none of the people who work on that floor (it’s an empty floor).

But I didn’t send such an email because I’d like to keep an air of professionalism, so instead, I put all of that embarrass yourself energy into panic-talking to the security guard at the front desk of the bathroom-rental building I have visited four times already today. And we all know I do this, the panic-talking thing, but why do I always feel the need to double-down and make it worse?

Me: “Hi, I’m just here from the building down the street and we were told we could use a bathroom on the 9^th floor.”
Security guard: “Uh huh.”
Me: “Oh, ok, so it’s ok for me to go up? I don’t need to sign anything?”
SG: “No ma’am.”
Me, giggling for some reason?: “Oh ok, I guess that makes sense that I don’t have to sign in every time I want to pee.”
SG: staring at me.
Me: “Ok, so any elevator is fine?”
SG: “Yep.”

Me, pushing button and waiting. And sweating.

Me: “God, wouldn’t it be awful if I had IBS or something? Those poor people. I’d probably just not come to work.”
SG, cracking a smile: “That’d be bad.”
Me: “Right? I should be grateful I guess….That I’m not one of those people….Or that I don’t have a stomach bug--”

“Ding!”

Me, thankfully getting on the elevator, doors closing: “Thanks!”

And then I went back three more times. And each time she would see me, she’d put her head down and pretend to be doing something else. As you do when you’ve really enjoyed your interaction with someone who can’t stop talking about potentially sh*tting their pants.

Anyway, if you’re peeing at your own leisure without inputting a passcode every time, consider today a success, people!

My home away from work. 

Happy Wednesday!  

In Which I'm the Opposite of Zen

So I’ve been on this, apparently, never-ending journey of trying to be a little bit better each day. Or at least each week. For sure each month. Or, like, every quarter definitely. And part of this journey is to not let the little things bother me so much since they’re unimportant nuisances that only get me aggravated and have no real place or meaning in the world. EXCEPT THEY’RE IMPORTANT and nobody seems to care.

So what are these little things? Below is a very abridged list because this blog could go on for eternity. To be clear, though, this is not a passive-aggressive list aimed at CB, though he should definitely pay attention to a few just for his own self-improvement purposes. In general, however, this is aimed at society. And, I mean, if you’re being honest, maybe this is less about me having to change my reaction to these atrocities and more a public service to humanity to get it together already.

Let’s proceed:

Not clearing your time on the microwave.

People, this should be considered a hate crime. And for some reason, when it’s an uneven number left on the screen, I mentally melt even more. I know this is an unhealthy obsession, but living with a man who never clears the time is like living an awake nightmare. And then coming to work and walking among others who never clear the time is almost more than I can take.

Not pulling the shower curtain closed.

Less egregious than the microwave time, for sure, but still pretty offensive to my senses.

Leaving cabinets open.

We’ve been over this before and I do believe it may have been in my wedding vows because I’m the ultimate catch and CB is so lucky.

Chewing.

If I can hear you chewing, I’m unable to focus on anything else. And the saliva chew sound is the ultimate worst. I used to actually have to get up from the table in high school when my dad would eat a banana. My ears were going to explode and my anger would rage like a hot volcano just beneath the surface. Since that’s a normal response to someone eating a banana at breakfast.

This sign.

This sign is a few blocks from my  house. This is a professionally made sign. Who didn’t notice this? WHO DIDN’T NOTICE THIS?

Wearing furry slipper shoes outside.

Ok, so it’s possible we’re getting out of “pet peeve” territory and more into just annoying trends. But please tell me you’ve noticed and fought hard against this trend? For some reason this summer I’ve noticed an inordinate amount of women wearing what look to be flip flops with fur on them. Like fuzzy slippers that housewives in the 1950s wore, except now they’re outside.

Yes, I realize it’s risky to come back to blogging out of the blue with a pet peeve rant, but I feel this is why you come here. Straight talk from an insane person. Please tell me I’m not alone here. And what have I left out? (insert a long list from CB here who has to hear this living list on a weekly basis….)

Happy Wednesday!