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Thursday, November 2, 2017

The Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Ten Minutes

I had a day yesterday.

Or, more accurately, I had one-sixth of an hour, but it was a doozy.

It all started with me wanting to be healthy. Which just goes to show you, that's a dangerous idea.

I was sitting at my desk at work - and this is a new desk, you understand because they moved me a few weeks ago since they're doing construction on my floor. So this new desk is right next to a conference room we've nicknamed "the fishbowl" because it's the only conference room on the property that has solid glass walls and doors, floor to ceiling.

So I was at my desk and realized I needed to use the facilities, and as I got up, I decided to try a healthy stretch I saw on some video somewhere. You can do at work and it doesn't really look like a stretch so you can do it easily - except I backed into my candy dish doing my healthy stretch (how's that for irony).

This particular candy dish has a heavy glass lid that came crashing down and shattered on the carpet around my chair. So I carefully picked up the larger pieces, and then I realized there were a lot of fine glass shards that were too small to pick up easily, and facilities would take at least three days to send someone with a vacuum over to clean it up.

I put on my mom thinking cap and grabbed a roll of packing tape. I cut off a few long strips, leaving them hanging from the edge of my desk, and one by one I used them on the carpet to pick up the last of the glass. Well, most of them, anyway. There were two left when my head connected with them, tangling my hair in and around them and when I unknowingly pulled away, they yanked my head back since they were still partially adhered to the table, which I hit with a loud thump and a curse word. Maybe two curse words.

I sat my frustrated butt down on the floor next to my desk and extricated my head from its tape-helmet (with more under-breath cursing and muttering) and then as I was getting back up, I gouged my arm on the corner of my desk so hard I think I'll have a bruise there until my retirement. The adrenaline rush of all this reminded me in a very urgent way that I had been on my way to the restroom when this whole debacle started, so I whirled around to go - and knocked my trash can over, spilling more glass out onto the floor.

Luckily, it was just the big pieces this time, but I was in a slow state of burning fury with a tap-dancing bladder that wasn't helping any. I put the trashcan back to rights, dusted my hands, and then I made eye contact with the four people in the fishbowl conference room who'd been watching this entire drama unfold. They were riveted. Unblinking.

So I raised my chin, and lurched off to the bathroom as fast as I could without looking like I was running. I contemplated staying there all day, but I settled for heading down to an early lunch and returning to my desk after the top of the hour, hoping they'd all finished their meeting.

I wasn't that lucky, of course. I did catch them glancing over at me every now and again. Guess they were hoping for an encore.

This is my life, kids. Don't try this at home.


  1. oh dear lord. I am so sorry. I am trying not to taste the delicious schadenfreude.

  2. I'm not laughing. I'm not, I promise. You believe me, right?
    I hope you had a much better day after that.