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Month: April 2017

Germs

I was at the laboratory in the doctor’s office today for some blood work. The room had posters about the importance of washing your hands and general cleanliness guidance all around it. People in the room are not supposed to eat, drink, use chap stick, or apply make-up, because all of these things facilitate germ transfer.

I had my water bottle with me, and I asked if I could put it on the table. “Can I put this right here?” I asked, hovering the bottle over a table.

The nurse looked at me, then at the table, and said, “I wouldn’t. That table is dirty.”

“Oh! Thank you for honesty!” I replied.

Then I fumbled with my water bottle clumsily, but the whole time I was thinking, “WHY IS A TABLE IN THIS ROOM DIRTY?”

 

 

 

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Chess Master

I’ve recently taken up chess on my phone, because no one will play with me in real life. And to be clear: the reason people are avoiding playing with me is NOT that I’m very good. I’m terrible.

I’m so terrible it’s embarrassing for my loved ones to watch. And they refuse to help me improve by continuing to play with me, and now I have to play against a computer on Level 2 (the second lowest level) and experience defeat privately several times a day.

On the phone, you can set it so that a buzzer goes off before you are about to make a mistake, to help you improve. The sound goes “Egh.” So all David hears when I play is:

Game: Egh

Game: Egh

Game: Egh

Game: Egh

Me: (make strong executive decision and move a piece)

Me: Oops!

 

 

 

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I love New York

I got off a subway stop in New York, and I decided to exit from the Southwest exit of my stop. I walked up the stairs, and between the middle and top of the stairs, there was a man that I judged, based on the way he was dressed, to be homeless. He looked at me,  tied the plastic bag he was holding, and pulled up his pants.

I paused a little, to give him time to move up the stairs and me an opportunity to turn around and go the other way if necessary. He went up the stairs, so I went up the stairs too, leaving 10 steps between us. When he got to the top of the stairs and exited the station, not even a full block later, I saw him casually throw that plastic bag over his head and into an open window of a second floor apartment.  Then he kept walking up the street.

There were trash bins on the corner of the subway station exit, but that is not where he decided to throw his bag of garbage.

I walked by that same window the next day, and it was closed. Perhaps those owners learned their lesson.

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At My Wit’s End (Not really)

I just saw someone on Facebook describe their two year old as “witty.” I wanted to write, “Hello! Is your kid a prodigy who has mastered the nuances of the human condition, or are we just throwing that word around now?”

Instead, I just liked the post, because I’m not a monster. I’ll talk to that kid one day, and judge for myself.

 

 

 

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Hell Hath No Fury

….like that of a woman who has been trying to get pregnant, but is not yet.

Is that the expression?

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Bought the wrong type of toilet paper

I ordered the wrong type of toilet paper, and I only realized it as I was putting the package onto the shelf. I decided not to return it, because it was shipped to us. What am I supposed to do? Put it back in a cardboard box, take it to the shipping store, and send it back? When you’re returning something, you have to provide an explanation, and the explanation here would have been, “Your triple ply is not up to my husband’s standards for excellence.”

Anyway, David hasn’t noticed yet. This might be the first time our marriage has encountered a test of strength. Here are my two plans when he notices:

Plan A: “What? I didn’t buy that. You must have bought it.”

Plan B: Confess I bought it, and then claim that I have always preferred this toilet paper, and that for the past few years I have been pretending to like the same one he does, because I just want him to love me. But maybe it’s time to love me for me, and not for the person I’ve been trying to be for him.

Plan B is not a bullet proof plan, especially because I don’t really like this toilet paper I accidentally bought as well, so I will likely just dig in for Plan A.

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Found the FitBit Charger!

I found my FitBit charger! Here is how I found it: I was looking at the floor under my desk, and it was there, on the floor.

Here’s The Tale of the Missing FitBit Charger:

Once upon a time there was a FitBit and a Charger. They had a very special friendship. Every seven-to-ten days, they would come together, with Laptop, to power FitBit for the next seven-to-ten days.
Charger asked nothing of FitBit, only provided a connection that served as FitBit’s lifeblood.

Then one day FitBit went to Japan. Without Charger. Charger was devastated. “How could FitBit take Charger for granted?!” Charger thought. “I give and I give, every 5-7 days!” The more Charger thought about it, the more despondent he grew.

Finally, in a fit of despair, Charger flung itself off the desk where it normally resides, into the dark abyss.

The End.

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