Mixed Metals

I try to be a strong, supportive, level-headed, and rational wife to this man.

And most of the time I actually think I come decently close to hitting the mark, but today was not one of my better days. I woke up feeling tired, faced a long and grueling day of challenges at work, and came home with a stomachache and the beginning of a migraine. Then I accidentally scratched my own chin and made it bleed so I had to sport a bandage on it for the rest of the evening.

Observe the meltdown:

C: (interrupting conversation) I’m sorry, but I’m going to just say it because I’m feeling weak. I absolutely hate that you have to be away from home so much right now!

B: But sweetie, I thought you were okay with me taking this job!

C: I was, and I still am. And by tomorrow I’ll be able to deal again, I’m sure. But I can’t be steel today. (tearful blubbering)

B: Awww sweetheart, it’s okay.

C: I’m aluminum! Weak, bendy aluminum! With a bandage on my chin! I’m gross!

B: (laughing) You’re not gross; you just have a bandage on your chin.

C: I scratched myself, with my own hand, and now I’m wearing a bandage on my face! That’s as pitiful as it gets!

Laughing, B gave me a hug, a kiss on the forehead, and the promise that no, he won’t ever replace poor pitiful me with a better version who doesn’t have a bandage on her chin, which made me feel (mostly) better.

Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be steel again. Anyway, my face should be healed enough by then that I can ditch the bandage, and that counts for something at least.

Office Prank

What would you do if you were to happen upon a bin of these posters on sale for 99 cents?

I’m dark. I’m brooding. I…sparkle.

When we snagged one last year ago B autographed it with “Thanks for all the fan mail. XOXO Edward” and planted it in a coworker’s office. And there it remains, leering into the hallway from the office the pranked coworker vacated months ago and left to a new hire who was (un?)fortunate enough to inherit the gem.

 

Subtle Cues

I’ve had a long week. 6 and 7 AM starts paired with 12 and 1AM stops, angry phone calls, meetings with company management, and scattered mealtimes have left me completely drained. My late return flight was interrupted by two college kids who talked at one another for three hours straight about how awesome they were, comparing shoe sizes and the number of sports they play. (Surprise! Only one of them was a guy.)

My husband picked me up at the airport, cussing because my flight landed 20 minutes early and he wasn’t standing at the bottom of the escalator when I arrived. He smelled amazing and he looked great. He took me to a nearby cafe at midnight because he knew I’d be starving after my flight. He gently asked me if we needed to move to another table when a group of squawking teenage girls took up residence at the table next to ours and he saw me gritting my teeth and massaging my temples every time they shrieked.

When we arrived home I was greeted by Gromit the invalid, who gave me dog kisses all over my face and neck and wagged his tail so hard that he hit himself repeatedly with it. B stood there quietly while Gromit said hello, repeating the words, “He missed his mama this week. He kept looking for you.”

Early Morning Flight

I was in bed at 1AM and out of bed again at 5. My eyes are dry, my stomach is grumbling, and I’m exhausted. I have a lot of work ahead of me this week and I’m still dosing to treat a migraine that started yesterday.

It’s a little before 7AM and my flight just boarded. I’m wedged into a window seat on a very small plane, hoping that my seat will afford me a few hours of shuteye while we’re in the air so that I’ll be ready for my afternoon in the office.

It’s now 7AM and the man next to me is already asleep. His carefully and loudly inflated neck cushion is perched on top of his bulging belly, on top of which his arms rest, his elbows jutting out at either side so that one of them bumps me any time I move. He’s wearing noise blocking headphones but they’re not over his ears.

The man is snoring.

The flight hasn’t even begun yet and the guy I’m crammed into this tiny space with is snoring.

I’ve been Bubléd.

Michael Bublé has been creeping up on me for a while now.

At first I didn’t notice when he started appearing in my Jack Johnson Pandora channel. Then he proceeded to carve out a spot next to Maroon 5 and I finally put a name with the voice. My curiosity was piqued when I found him taking up residence alongside Jem, but it wasn’t until he started to also edge in with Amos Lee that I realized something was amiss. While I’d been busy looking the other way, Bublé had infiltrated all of my playlists and taken over.

Suddenly he was everywhere! Any time I returned to my office I’d find him waiting there in the shadows, promising to give more than he got. He crooned on and on about love as I conferenced with coworkers and my boss. On long days when the sun sank low on the horizon as I sat hunched over my computer keyboard, he was there softly willing me to save the last dance for him. Taking advantage of my inattention, Bublé had become ever-present and he had no trouble reminding me how good he felt about it.

Today when I returned to my office I really did find Michael Bublé waiting there, frowning at me from my bookshelf.

Is This Your Crab?

Today my coworker sent this to the small handful of ladies in the office:

I went to use my whiteboard today… and found a gold crab pin (crab…. Like the things you eat in Maryland).

I am taking a guess that it is more probable that a woman dropped it off their garment than a man…. And you represent the set of women I can think of that have been in my office recently.

Any takers?   If so… it is on my table, just inside the door to my office.

I confess; for about a millisecond I was tempted to go claim it as mine, but unfortunately, my conscience keeps me from stealing gold crustacean jewelry that’s not my own. And, quite fortunately, my taste in fashion–mismatched and outdated though it may be–prevents me from ever desiring to wear gold crustaceans. Or things people can make STD jokes about.