Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Red Right Hand

First things first, everybody please say Hello to Maureen, my therapist, i.e., the woman who keeps me sane. You can be the judge of how good of a job she does. ;-)

I haven't bitched about the "new" building in a few days, and since it's given me more fodder, I've felt the need to share with you once again. At the old building, I heard stories of mice, but never once saw evidence of one and I had been there 6.5 years dropping Cheerios on a regular basis. Either the mice there were already well-fed and therefore very picky or the stories were greatly exaggerated because those Cheerios never went anywhere unless I picked them up (or more than likely, ground them into the shitty carpeting). This also proves that vacuuming wasn't a high priority over there, but still, even with the attack of the killer cockroach where I barely escaped with my life, my old building is still head and shoulders above the present building because even though I've only been here four weeks there have been plenty of signs of mice. Two weeks ago a co-worker brought in candy and had it sitting in a wooden bowl, even this group of vultures (said lovingly since the bossman never shows his face down here) couldn't finish the bowl in one day, so on the second day I reached for a Ghirardelli White Mint square (in dark chocolate – oooooohhhhhh sooooooo good) and found a chocolate square that had been nibbled upon. It totally grossed out the co-worker who brought in the candy. I was wondering how the little sucker got up to the second floor and one smart ass suggested the escalators, but I found a three inch diameter hole in the co-worker's floor with obvious piping/ductwork. I figured that was as good a conduit for mice as anything else (although I don’t think it has a purpose) and the next day I found some steel wool and shoved it into the hole as someone had told me years ago that mice won't/don't bit through steel wool. It makes sense to me when you think about the feeling you get when you accidentally bite a piece of tin foil. So not a good time.

The second bit of evidence was a bit more tangible. Yet another co-worker came to me yesterday to pick up the scarf I knitted for her and she said, "Oh, Kathleen, there's a dead mouse over by Co-Worker #3's desk and it's smelling. It's half caught in a trap." YUK!!! I e-mailed the facilities guy (it pays to make friends with the facilities guy as quickly as possible and told him about it. They had that little bugger cleaned up within 15 minutes, according to Co-Worker #3. So, there ya go, just another reason to hate this friggin' building.

Oh, and nobody says "Bless you" when I sneeze. My people do, but the others who were here before us don't say a word. Nary a peep out of them. The guy in the next cube comes in minutes after me every day. This morning he sneezed and I said, "Bless you." He said, "Thank you" reluctantly. Not 30 seconds later I sneezed and he said nothing. Jackass.

I haven't bitched about the cafeteria yet, and I know you're all looking forward to that. First off, the bitching will be confined to their menu as I have bought nothing from them because they don't seem to understand the concept of vegetarian. Now, you might be thinking, "Well, Kathleen, vegetarians aren't exactly in the majority." And yes, you're right, except that I work in an industry that has a good number of Indians and other more vegetarian-minded ethnic groups. To me it's highly offensive that they don't think about the religious limitations of some peoples. Of course, it helps that I'm a vege and simply would like something vege once in a while. Here's the menu for last week (I honestly don't think one veggie soup a day is too much to ask for):

Tuesday: Entrées: Braised Pot Roast
Chicken Cordon Bleu
Soups: Turkey Noodle Soup
Chili Con Carne

Wednesday: Entrées: Salisbury Steak
Coney Dogs
Exhibition: Sizzling Caesar Salad
Soups: Beef Mushroom Barley
Chili Con Carne

Thursday: Entrées: Sesame Crusted Salmon
Roast Turkey Dinner
Soups: Santa Fe Chicken
Chili Con Carne

Friday: Entrées: Spaghetti & Meatballs
Baked Cod
Soups: New England Clam Chowder
Chili Con Carne

I'm thinking the chef likes chili. I mean, really, is it necessary every friggin' day of the week??? It doesn't help that I don't actually like chili anyway, but still. This week's menu also has Chili on it every single day. At least at my old building on Fridays, Tracy would make omelets to order, it was literally the only thing worth eating. Who knew that one day I'd be thinking fondly of the old cafeteria which I hated and despised?

I stayed home sick yesterday and ended up sleeping 14.5 hours. How insane is that? I got up at 11:30, took a shower and then had to lie back on the bed and get my strength back. I ventured back to the office today but was dragging butt all day. I'm supposed to go for drinks this afternoon because a co-worker is back from Mexico (where he's been for the past 2-3 years), but the Libertarian bailed and Martha keeps telling me I don't have to go and we can reschedule for next week as Mexico Co-Worker is back for a year at least, and I was insisting, but now that the Libertarian isn't going due to a project, I'm thinking we could postpone, except that I invited my friend Jim (Champ Car note on car guy from two years ago) and I haven't seen him in forever, so I'll probably end up going (if you followed that incredibly crazy-ass run-on sentence) with a nap beforehand. As bad as I'm feeling, a trip to the gym would be stupid, I think. The Libertarian has more projects than I do in the works. Today's is getting the truck cleaned up to get to the fix-it place so the fix-it guy can repair the frame. Yeah, the frame. Don't ask. Tomorrow's will be getting the truck to the Fix-It Place (I'm guessing) and then it'll be going to the Fix-It Place every other second to make sure the Fix-It Guy is repairing the truck properly. I guess I'm back to the once every five weeks schedule for seeing The Libertarian. *sigh* Okay, I'm probably exaggerating, but it would be nice to see him semi-regularly. And I know I won't see him this weekend because Friday is the symphony and I'm taking my friend Marianne's ten-year-old son. Then Saturday is Knitting Club and I won't back out on that. Martha asked me the other day if he asked me out for Saturday if I would go and I said absolutely not. Knitting Club has been scheduled for weeks.

Is it bedtime?

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10 Comments:

At Wednesday, 24 January, 2007, Blogger fermicat said...

Hmmm. I hope that "chef" hasn't been serving the same pot of chili for two weeks running.

 
At Wednesday, 24 January, 2007, Blogger Flumadiddle said...

I'm thinking the same thing as Fermicat. No one will eat the chili, so the chef just keeps recycling it. Over and over. Kinda like chili hell.

 
At Wednesday, 24 January, 2007, Blogger Sal said...

You know that sneezing thing goes on here too. I've been coughing and sneezing all over the place not a soul said a word. So the Indian guy who sits next to me caught my cold (serves him right for no "bless you's"?), being a polite guy when he sneezed I said bless you. No thank you. Okay, so next time I said "gesundheit" again nothing. Next time he sneezed I asked what the appropriate thing to say is where he comes from and he said they don't say anything when someone sneezes. Live and learn...

 
At Thursday, 25 January, 2007, Anonymous YouNameIt said...

I've never understood the long life of the ancient custom of saying, "Bless you," to somebody who sneezes, and I am especially baffled by the idea that it is un-courteous or rude not to say it. No one ever says it when when someone coughs or hiccups (or whatever). If someone says, "Bless you," to me when I sneeze, I usually say light-heartedly, "Sorry, too late."

I'm with "Jackass" on this one, but probably for completely different reasons (he is simply unfriendly). I don't like it when someone says, "Bless you," to me because it is so nonsensical, and it presumes we have the same religious beliefs.

Click the link to learn the origin(s) of the superstitious custom of saying, "Bless You", to someone who sneezes. These are also among the reasons I don't follow said custom. I first learned about them as a kid.

 
At Thursday, 25 January, 2007, Blogger trinamick said...

Most people in this area don't do the "Bless you" thing either. It's based on the idea that your soul leaves your body when you sneeze and that's the way to get it back or whatnot. Since I don't believe that way, I don't say it.

As for the food, it all sounds good to me, with the exception of the salad and salisbury steak. But of course, I'm a bit of a carnivore. They don't seem to give many options otherwise. Are they open to suggestions?

 
At Thursday, 25 January, 2007, Blogger LL said...

Hi Maureen!

Hmmmm... I'd pass on the chili too.

 
At Friday, 26 January, 2007, Blogger mr. schprock said...

The mice in our old office used to leave us notes. The little bastards told me to cut out the Monterey Jack and switch to Velveeta.

Please give Maureen my regards.

 
At Sunday, 28 January, 2007, Blogger Beth said...

The menu sounds great for a carnivore like myself. Don't they have salads? I never worked where there was a cafeteria so always had to bring my own. Maybe you could just do that.

 
At Monday, 29 January, 2007, Blogger Kathleen said...

Beth - I just go w/o food as grocery shopping and I aren't exactly on speaking terms.

 
At Tuesday, 30 January, 2007, Blogger Scott said...

The guy I sit with at work is always saying bless you, to me and everybody else that sneezes in the office, no matter how far away they are. He simply raises his voice in proportion to the distance of the sneezer.

I took the test in the next post. It nailed my location as being from Ohio. Pretty cool. Here is the text:

"You have a Midland accent" is just another way of saying "you don't have an accent." You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio.

 

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