27 September, 2014

thinglets in the rain

there ain't much to report.
alternately, there's so much to report that i can't look at the keyboard without needing a stiff drink, and then getting distracted by some shiny new thought and entirely forgetting to come back and write.

september, despite some dark days (in the single digits, thankfully) is almost through, and despite my fear and trepidation, there hasn't been a repeat of last two years' emotional debacles. i keep on keeping on, and all that shit. fingers crossed, wood regularly knocked on, natürlich.

i was given a hint of a possibility of moving back to the third floor by bossman and immediately put the kibosh on that - the last few months have found me bonded for life (well, the 8-4:30, mon-fri portion of it anyways) with my fourth floor posse, "the johnsons". the neighbouring landscape architects continue to evade eye contact for the most part, though some have fallen prey to my indomitable charm and tenacity. some even say hello of their own free will!

my biggest challenge of late (read: since work began) is unprecedented: getting some sort of manageable work-life balance. my previous iteration as a dental demi-goddess had none of these issues - when work finished for the day, it was finished. overtime and deadlines were things of which i had no inkling, other than in a purely academic sense. well, it's a trade-off, innit? now i'm surrounded by people with whom i can have real conversations,* doing something that i give a shit about, and enjoying all the social side benefits (food truck events, scavenger hunts followed by pub nights, boozy barbecues, etc.). still, my cooking/exercising/down time have suffered, and i've taken september as my Month To Fix Myself. so far, so good.

heading off to a breast cancer fundraiser momentarily, where i shall hang with co-workers, dance to a live blues band, and likely drink too much. life is good.

over and out.

*granted, sometimes they are conversations that end with "nobody wants to see monkey genitalia " but still...

07 September, 2014


at work, i am the generally acknowledged purveyor of snacks - i have a drawer dedicated solely to microwave popcorn packets, rice crackers, chocolate covered raisins, dried pineapple and cherries, almonds, and whatever else.

b the a, a resident hyper-intelligent surly misanthrope with a sharp tongue and filthy mouth (and thus one of my particular favourites) often comes over with an almost dickensian look on his face ("please sir, i want some more"), and i toss him a snack.

friday, somebody was microwaving popcorn and, as expected, this brought b the a out of his cubicle, quite literally sniffing the air as he walked towards mine.

moi: 'twasn't me, b, but if you like i can give you a whole pack.

b the a: um, no. have you seen how fat i'm getting?

moi: a little.

b the a: wait. what did you say?!

moi: (confused) why, what did YOU say?

b the a: i said, have you seen how fat i'm getting?

moi: (relieved) ah. yes. and i said, a little.

as much as the man bitches about the beige police that influences much of north american life (ya know, perpetual political correctness, pasted-on smiley-faced surface politeness, paying lip service to diversity while terrified of anything truly different etc., etc.), i think he was truly floored that i said what i said. it's all good, though. we're still friends.