Call backs

I have this problem at work.

Each and every time I work a day shift, if I go to the washroom, well, the phone rings, and usually it's an important call.

Taking phones to the washroom is gross.

Ok, I totally do have my cell on me when I go at work- it grosses me out but it doesn't stop me. It's the only minute I'll have to look at messages uninterrupted when I work an evening shift. So the last month and a half I've been keeping track of how often the phone rings when I go to the washroom... 8 of the last 10 visits.

80%

I've also been keeping track of how many shifts in a row my coworker says the word "breakfurst". I had to start my count over because we had a single shift where she didn't say it... after 34 shifts in a row. I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING. But that's not the topic today. Maybe I should also keep track of how many times it's said on a shift? Maybe I should count how many other facts I'm keeping track of?

80% of the times I've gone to the washroom while working a day shift this month, someone has called. I decided to fight back.

I put both the work phones in my pocket with my cellphone when I took my trip to the facilities and the phones didn't ring.

Someone came to the door.

Note: visits to the door are a rare occurrence.  Lately we've been having a number of deliveries from a new company that employs a very handsome young man. I've requested that all deliveries be scheduled for my shifts.

Sweater weather

There are some sweet young women in my life that I am blessed to know. Each one is quirky, artsy, creative, smart, and kind.

Oh, and drop dead gorgeous.

The three of them are headed off to school in just one week. There is a flip flopping tidal wave of emotion and hormones that those girls are riding as two are headed to opposite ends of our giant country (and leaving eachother/their first love) and one returns for her final term.

These girls are also very silly and can make me snort in my laughter with them... at them. One tonight was trying to show us her "jazz hands"... but she has as problem getting the one hand to cooperate. .. so it's like a jazz hand. Or... nemo.  Really, that left hand is just waving goodbye.

It's muggy gross out. At work I wear layers to fight the air conditioning.  Today I chose a rather unfortunate see-through shirt under my sweater... I took off my sweater after one of the girls said the house was too cold with the a.c. running, it was on to get the humidity out of the house, it wasn't that hot, just so damp and gross. It meant I was in my see through shirt, but I really didn't care and, whatever.

Ruebendog was having a hard time getting settled. So much whining. 
So I brought him up on my lap for a squishing. It didn't work. I just got steamrolled. And covered in fur.

"But at least your shirt isn't so see-through".

*insert eyeroll here*