My 40 day hiatus from social media is over. And as I told a friend who was lamenting my absence, just because I wasn't reporting on weird stuff in my life, doesn't mean it wasn't happening. Let's just discuss yesterday.
My company laptop has not let me log on all week so I spend over two days getting the run-around from our "help" desk without actually getting any thing resembling help. I finally ask to speak to a manager and finally a tech calls me and tells me I can either keep waiting for someone else to call me who is closer to my job - or - I can just drive way out in Virginia during rushhour the next morning (yesterday) and he himself will fix it.
Even though I'd rather have thorns stuck under my fingernails than drive out to this place that time of day, I feel like I need to pounce on this guy's offer. So I do and after an awkward hour of him telling me repeatedly how busy he is and how some days he just wants to kill himself and that the only thing that keeps him going is his music --
and he proceeds to turn on a cross between smooth jazz and R&B love mix -- he finally tells me my laptop is fixed and releases me to then get back into heinous traffic to go to my client site back up in D.C. And what do I get just as soon as I get back in my car?
From another tech.
Not even a block from my client site.
Saying they can take a look at my computer now.
Grrrr. Whatever, at least it's fixed. So I finally get to my office and make it through the rest of the morning and go down to the foodcourt to grab lunch. And I'm carrying a purse that until recently smelled like a giant Cigar because I ended up at a place called Shelly's a few days ago where rich men in this city rent humidors and keep their cigars there so they can smoke them while talking about how powerful and awesome they are.
I happened to be there with a man I met on a bridge several months ago.
And now I'm just gunna leave that story there where it's good and confusing.
The point of bringing that up at all was to say that just being in that place made everything I was wearing - including my own skin, hair, teeth, eyelids.... - reek of cigar. My purse smelled for several days but FINALLY it had stopped.
Which brings us back to yesterday when I bought lunch at a sandwich place. And put my food in my purse.
Backstory: I lived the first 13 years of my life in the Pacific Northwest around Burkenstocks-wearing, tree-hugging hippies who recycled before recycling was cool. I've never lost a faint urge to recycle (even after it became cool and the smug part of me wanted to stop recycling because everyone is doing it now so it's no longer cool! Like listening to Kings of Leon....) But I do still enjoy a good tryst with conservationism every now and then so I rarely use disposable bags. If I don't have a cloth reuasable bag, I'll just throw whatever I purchase in my purse. Like my sandwiches.I order a sandwich and then see the giant jar of giant pickles they have on the counter. So after I tell my "sandwich artist" what all I want on my sandwich, I add "and can I get a big pickle?" And the 12 year old boy in my head always smirks at that sentence and I assume other people have their own 12 year old boys in their heads so I say it kind of quietly - and the artist doesn't hear me. So then I say it again, and then make a gesture with my hands to further explain the item I'm asking for. And the artist laughs a little and assures me that "he heard me that time" as if to say "you really didn't need to embarrass yourself with that gesture just now."
Sigh. So then I pay for my items, toss them in my purse like a good hippie's-neighbor, and head back to my office.
And realize the pickle wasn't wrapped well enough and has leaked out in the bottom of my purse. So now my purse FINALLY stopped smelling like cigar smoke, only to start smelling like pickle juice.
And that's how my week ended.
Yep, not much changed in the last 40 days :)