it made more sense in the middle of the night

Padding into the bathroom at 2:16am due to dehydration induced gallon o’ water consumption last night, I was startled by a small, dark object on the floor. The moonlight slicing through the window - okay, fine, the bright light of the streetlamp right outside the bedroom window that will not be dulled by the shades - illuminated the object against the shiny white tile. My first thought was, “Oh, shit, a mouse. Should I wake up Scout so he can catch it?” My second thought was, “Since I don’t have my glasses on, perhaps I should verify that it IS a mouse before I wake him up (see previous mention of time of day, rather, night).”

So I flipped the light switch on to get a clear view of the mouse. A couple flaws with that plan (which didn’t occur to me until after I was fully awake, as I clearly was not when I concocted this crazy plan):
1) I had to actually come within 2 feet of the mouse to turn on the light. So after I saw it on the ground, I continued to walk TOWARD it in order to turn on the light.
2) I neglected to consider that the mouse might ALSO see the light and scurry away instead of hanging out for me to inspect its rodentness.

Fortunately for my middle of the night illogical logic, it was not a mouse. Quit squirming in your chairs. It was a travel pack of Kleenex that had fallen off the counter. You can understand how I could be confused, as tissues wrapped in cellophane have an uncanny resemblance to furry tailed rodents. People have been confusing the two for many, many years. Hey, it made sense in the middle of the night.


can you hear it?

They have been silent until now, hidden away in a dark place. But today, they are calling out to me. Demons from my past? Orphaned starving children from a third world nation? Hardly. It’s those damn girl scout cookies sitting in my work drawer.

I have avoided them for WEEKS! Part of the beauty of my plan was that I would leave them in my drawer at work, and since I have been traveling lately, I didn’t have access to them. Of course, I could have driven to my office to rescue them, but that would have been CRAZY. It even seemed crazy when it crossed my mind this weekend, but fortunately (in this case), I am lazy and the prospect of driving to work seemed like… well, too much work. But now – they are RIGHT there… if I roll my chair to the right, I can reach them. And there are starving children in this world – it would be a waste to let these cookies go stale. I suppose I could send the cookies to them, but think of all the gas and packaging materials that would have to go into the shipment – and I would have a tough time contributing to global warming even if it was for the cause of reducing world hunger. Competing priorities.

I should go. I have to rescue those poor helpless Samoas (I am protesting their new lame-o name – I anticipate they will bring it back next year due to the revolution) from my drawer. Give them a better home – um, my stomach? Or I guess it would probably be more like my hips or my rump shaker. A technicality.


go ahead… make my day

Each new day starts fresh… but with each new beginning, there is a certain amount of repetition. Whether it is a daily routine (flossing your teeth – or so you tell your dentist when you go for your cleaning), a daily route (didn’t you see that guy shaving in his car yesterday… or worse) or the same people (crazy guy that sits behind the bus driver and tells him the mundane details of his life while said bus driver is looking out for the jackass that is about to cut him off), there is a thread of consistency and repetition as we travel through life.

One of those things that makes my day significantly better…

Opening the door to the bathroom stall at work and finding the toilet seat still up. Not because we have a coed bathroom (do you think I am Ally McBeal?) but because nobody has used the seat since the cleaners came through. How beautiful - a pristine seat gleaming at me, untouched by any other behind. Not that I can even validate that the cleaners actually clean the seat – they might just raise it so they can squirt the blue cleaner into the bowl without dripping and leaving the evidence. Or, they might wipe it with a nasty rag. Or, they might wipe it with a paper towel and no cleaner. But I like to think they squirted every square inch with antimicrobial cleaner and wiped it down with a clean rag/fresh paper towel. Let me live my dream.

Now you know what makes my day. I’m a simple girl.