I am in the midst of a four day weekend. I had grand ideas at the start of it. Cleaning out closets, squaring away laundry, and generally being very productive.
Well, so you know what they say about the best laid plans. Or the road of good intentions leading to hell. Or something.
Yesterday my only accomplishment was in managing not to create more things to clean.
Today, I managed vacuuming, bill paying, and stocking up on paper products so I can avoid dishes. Oh, and I bought stamps.
All of that was after 7 pm. Before that, I navel gazed old wank at fandom_wank for four hours. And took a nap.
I hope tomorrow is more productive than the last two days. I'm down to two days off after tonight and when I go back to work and overly inquisitive people ask me what I did on my long Labor Day weekend, I'd love to have an answer without making anything up.
The overly inquisitive is a guy my age with such a receding hairline that he shaves his head. He's built on a small scale so he tries very hard to make up for it by being a bigger presence. He accomplishes this by wearing what I'm convinced are shoes two to three sizes too big for him, so he clomps around very loudly. He wears a set of gigantic keys on his belt that rattle something awful when he walks, so that you can hear him coming a mile away, and he pitches his nasal voice very high and chews gum enthusiastically.
Sometimes he reminds me of Rob Schneider's old SNL character, the guy in the copy room. Whenever anyone passes the hall outside his office, he 'catches' them with a remark about baseball or whatnot and tries to get them to go in so he'll have someone to talk to.
Most times I don't mind him. Sometimes I do. Once when it was raining out and a group of us were going to lunch, I was huddled into myself and rushing along. I don't carry umbrellas because it only rains about three days of the year around here and I'd rather get a little bit wet than lug one of those things around along with my usual junk. I heard his keys and shoes just before he lunged up next to me, wrapped his arm tight around my shoulders and stuck his umbrella over my head. I was so stunned I just walked along until we got to the car, praying no one was looking at us.
Another time when we were out to lunch (a group of us go out to lunch once or twice a month to break the routine of eating at our desks as we work), he paid for my meal because it was Admininstrative Assistants' Day. I thanked him and thought it was kind of nice of him considering I know he's got two kids and his wife only works sporadically. That is until he started helping himself to my onion rings when we were all eating. Apparently buying my lunch meant splitting it, in addition to having his own meal.
So yeah, he's inquisitive as hell but he always seems so disappointed by my answers of "not much, laundry, took the kids to the park, napped." I don't know exactly what he wants me to say but it'd be nice if I could say I was productive, at least.
I realized the other day that I work with some very colorful characters. I've told Twi many times we should have a reality show in our office. It would be hilarious. In addition to Overly Inquisitive, we have a part time nudist who can kill you dead with his chit-chat, Crazy Bitch and her batshit ideas of the gov't reading our minds (because they socan, you guys!), and Twi and I share too much information with each other about sex and bathroom habits.
And my boss. I love him, but omg, in his quest to be everyone's friend, he's allowed some egos to rampage all over the second floor of our Admin Building. Except two months ago. He put out a memo about zero tolerance on gossiping. Which. Whatever. It's still going to happen, it's just going to be more furtive. Anyway. After that, he came down sick, throwing up and fever, so that he missed two days work - which he never, ever does. Turns out he had salmonella, and now he thinks someone poisoned him with a raw chicken on his doorknob in retaliation for him harshing their gossip squee.
I told him to take a second and think about what he said, but he doesn't think it's far-fetched. Now he won't partake in any potlucks. And he's got a gigantic container of Clorox Wipes that he uses to clean his desk, keyboard, caculator and DOORKNOB at least twice a week.
If only we were allowed to have cameras, we'd be funnier than The Office. Seriously.