It is my home, my neighborhood, and my history. It is what I am and where I came from. Embarrassing? Yes Boring? Never

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Balsamic Vinaigrette for Everyone!

The dogs had tried their best to get me up this morning, but my intuition must have realized it was not a good move. Half hour after I should have been up I stumbled to the door to let the dogs out and they would not go. It was not that wet out, but I did not have time to argue. They barked their way to the kitchen, where I discovered why they no longer needed to go out, they had already done their business - on the floor-- of my kitchen. By the time I cleaned up, the cat was completely freaked out and screaming for breakfast. I feed her, then realized I had not shut the door tight enough and the dogs had ran her off and eaten her food while I was trying to get theirs in the dish. I fed her again. Now I am really running late, but did pause to note there was a giant bottle of balsamic vinaigrette on my dining room table. I ‘cliff note’ my morning routine and thank heaven it is casual Friday. I grab my purse, my quick lunch, my keys, ponder the giant bottle of balsamic vinaigrette and bolt out the door.
Now, the grass was still wet from nightly rain and I was wearing a cute little pair of canvas tennis shoes. But at my age, running with that combination was cursed. I hit square on my behind, which I thank heaven is more padded that it used to be and I just got up with my big wet behind and drove down the road. At the light, I pulled my soda from my lunch back for a dose of caffeine and actually had the thought of the fall right as I opened the shaken beverage and blasted myself a little before recapping it. I managed to stagger into my desk only two minutes late and began my day.
My office is actually in the middle of a very dirty very hot very loud repair shop that was originally built during world war II. ( We have updated some things, like a sign on the door that says “US Citizen’s Only!“ Yeah, that is right - my boss had the sign made to her direct specifications. Tat includes the punctuation. Go back and look at it again. It is exactly as I typed it, we citizens are terribly amused. ) There are giant aircraft tires and huge piles of used steel and rivet machines and vats of acid and paint booths and general filth. The office part is small, there are 6 cells enclosed in an air-conditioned box with a door that sticks and one locked office for the main boss. Tow motors hit the box frequently and it sounds as if it is going to cave in. There are tire explosions from over inflation and paint fumes. (thank heavens for the paint fumes, or it would be totally intolerable) I coordinate repairs and keep customers from driving to the facility and strangling people with their bare hands. It is not a job for the light hearted. This is important to have this picture to really grasp the absurdity of the next point.
I am called over to my boss’s cell, where she explains to me how she is tired of getting complaints (maybe the citizen’s are complaining) about the condition of my desk. She expresses that I lack organization and I need to get it straightened up. She tells me it is getting really old that she has to go over this again and again. Great, there is nothing else for her to bitch about but my stacks of work. Not that I am doing the job that 3 people used to do or anything. The whole time she is talking all I can think about is that my butt is still wet.
So by 9 am my day was completely trashed. I did nothing the rest of the day but clean. While my phone ran (I did answer the phone when my house showed up on the caller ID, to ask if I could have someone run me up some brownies and if anyone knew where the giant balsamic vinaigrette came from) , my emails stacked , and faxes piled up, I cleaned my desk, my floor, my cabinets, my drawers. I have no knickknacks or pictures or personal items to get dusty so I really had to try hard to clean for 7 hours.
I left on time, I could not in good conscious work over, with all the dust shoved into other cells, and not much other cleaning to do, and that Balsamic Vinaigrette mystery going on. Home was surprisingly calm and quiet. I threw my baggage on the table, and left the Balsamic vinaigrette remain as an odd large centerpiece. I really did not care any more how it got there, it suddenly seems very appropriate for the day.

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