Image, Toothpaste for Dinner
One of the people who works for the company that operates my cafeteria plan spent a couple days this past week fixing somebody else's screw-up. The fact that she was able to do so took me completely by surprise.
When I hadn't heard from her by day two, I figured she had left me high and dry; I was going to have to spend most of my morning trying to get her back on the line—or, barring that—explaining the problem to someone brand new so I could start the entire process over again.
Instead, she phoned at what must have been her quitting time on Friday to let me know she had taken care of the problem.
It was one of those situations where "Thank you" is appropriate, but because the other person went to so much trouble, doesn't really seem adequate.
"Thank you so much,” I said.
"That's quite all right."
"I really appreciate all the trouble you went to in clearing this up for me."
"Really--it's fine. That's what we're here for."
"Well, okay. Thanks again!"
"Love you too."
It didn't go exactly like that, but that's always my fear during these conversations—that in the flurry of sign-offs that wind down a phone call, I will slip into auto-response mode and proclaim love for a total stranger.
And as everybody knows, once you say the L-word, there's really no going back.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Every Tuesday night, I and several of my friends tweet through that week's episode of LOST.
That's right. I'm a member of the LOST Twitter Army.
If those two words in the same sentence make you think less of me, then so be it. I feel better during that hour of the week than I do at any other time.
It's a testimony to the nature of that show that so many of our tweets aren't really repeatable here. Well, I could--but I'm somewhat ashamed of myself so I won't. At any rate, we are almost always full of shock and awe as we watch, and our tweets are reflective of that. As you probably already know, some of us are more shocking and awesome than others.
But for that hour, my tiny apartment is filled with my friends, and we're having that experience together. We talk on top of one another, and hook punchlines off someone else's setup, and for the most part are our very best selves. It's fun and funny and lets everyone forget that some of us are actually physically hundreds of miles away.
And then it's over.
In a little over a week, LOST will be over too, and all my friends really are going to be a terribly long way away. On Tuesday nights, I'll be missing them almost as much as I will be missing my favorite show.
I'm going to hate to see it all end. Truly.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Muffin Uptown has a blog. She's posting about her art. If we're lucky, she'll do some writing there, too.
Yup. She's good at all those things.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
I needed to send a copy of my driver's license to someone. I don't even like showing my license to people who have the real-life me with which to compare--so I was really unhappy about having to send it out to be my sole representation to people who have never met me. It didn't even matter that those people weren't going to care. I guess I'm just that vain.
But lo and behold, I had let my license expire.
So on Wednesday, I spent a goodly chunk of my only free afternoon awaiting my turn at the DMV, where I exchanged a license featuring the photograph of a wild-haired, myopic, middle-aged woman with two chins for one picturing a wild-haired, myopic, double-chinned doofus who is four years older than middle-aged.
You would have thought that being in possession of a particularly unflattering driver's license photograph for the last four years might have prompted me to practice in front of a mirror beforehand. It did not. Mainly because I just didn't believe it was possible to take a worse picture than the one I already had. Anything--I figured--would be an improvement.
I don't understand why the guy who was snapping pictures that day couldn't have leaned in and said, "Sister. You don't want to be making that particular face. I'm serious. Nothing personal, but from where I'm sitting, you look like a doofus."
DMV restroom Image,Chacabuco's photostream.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
I've started a tumblelog. Now you can be frustrated by my posting inconsistency across three separate platforms!
FastCompany's Chris Dannen makes the point that not everything requires text. And even though I make my living via the written word, I completely agree. Sometimes it's enough to say, "Look. I want show you this."
Occasionally, I want to share things with you without having to add my two cents. That's what Tumblr is for. You can follow me there by way of the little button on your left, or you can just click here.
Read the rest of Dannen's What the Hell is Tumblr? here.