Friday, March 25, 2005

Holy Friday, Batman

Disclaimer: Completely irreverant religious discussion to follow, complete with ethnic stereotypes.

I think someone spiked the coffee yesterday. If only I had a tape recorder with me, I could share with you the roughly twenty minutes I sat sitting in my cube, hand clasped over my mouth, trying to laugh silently (gotta live up to my name, after all). But alas, I didn't have the foresight to bring a recording device to my office, although I am seriously thinking now of stashing one in my desk drawer for just such an occasion. I will do my best to relay the chaos. Let me start out by saying that before yesterday, I knew absolutely nothing about the Jewish holiday Purim. Now I think I'm either very well informed, or severely misinformed. Late in the afternoon, when everyone was nice and punchy, Musketeer #1 started it all by goading Nutjob.

Musketeer #1: Hey Nutjob, it's Purim. Aren't you supposed to be fasting? You didn't fast today.

Nutjob (with real panic in her voice): What?! You don't fast for.... oh my god, I forgot to fast!

A discussion about Purim ensued, during which I learned that it is a holiday where children dress in costumes and there is something to do with "Queen Esther", and someone named (I'm sure I'm spelling this wrong) "Mordacai".

Nutjob: It's like Halloween!

Musketeer #1 (very soberly): No, it's not like Halloween. Halloween is a Roman Catholic holiday. 'All Hallows Eve'.

Nutjob didn't hear him because she was busy chattering away about Queen Esther.

Musketeer #1: Who is this "Queen Esther" anyway? Who made her Queen?

some inaudible mumblings from Nutjob

Musketeer #1 (walking away from her cube): Well, I heard she was originally from Hawaii anyway.

I nearly had coffee shoot out of my nose. At that point, I thought it was over, but I was sorely mistaken. Musketeer #2 came out of his office and started talking about how the markets would be closed tomorrow (today) because of Holy Friday, and we should have the day off.

Musketeer #2: We have to go to church tomorrow. Except for you Nutjob, you should have to work overtime.

Nutjob: Why?

Musketeer #2: Well your poeple... tomorrow is the day you did the deed.

Musketeer #1 (yelling from his office): Yeah! You killed our Savior!!!

At this point lots of yelling erupted, with the Musketeers goading Nutjob, and Nutjob shouting that Jesus was Jewish anyway (which I'm not sure has anything to do with their point, but this is Nutjob). Dick came out of his office saying that Nutjob needed some backup and joined the fray. Around the time the ruckus settled down, Musketeer #1 yelled from his office:

Hey! Queen Esther gave it up for Mordacai!

Musketeer #3: What are you doing in there?

Musketeer #1: I'm researching Purim.

Musketeer #3: Are you sure you're not researching "porn"?

Musketeer #1: Hey, there's some Italian guy involved. "Mordici".

Musketeer #2: That figures. There's always a Guinea at the bottom of everything. I bet he was all mobbed up.

Musketeer #3: I think that's "Mordacai".

Nutjob: Mordacai!!!

Musketeer #1: Well, I'm changing it to "Mordici", it's more interesting that way. He was probably a Sicilian.

It was at this point that Musketeer #1 came out of his office with something he had printed off a website.

Musketeer #1: Hey, Musketeer #2, this is your kind of holiday! It says: "you shall eat and be merry. Eat and drink and become drunk. Drink so much that you can't tell the difference between blah-blah and blah-blah - I can't pronounce those names - but don't drink so much that you break any of the Laws or become ill". See, Musketeer #2, it says to get blitzed!

Musketeer #2: Hey, we Irish don't need a holiday to get blitzed.

At this point I couldn't help but interject.

Me: What kind of website are you getting this off of, anyway?

Musketeer #1 (with a smirk): ""

Of course! I should have known.

Musketeer #1: Hey, SilentWitness, there's something in here you'd like too. "Children put on plays and there is dancing and singing and crossdressing".

Me: What does that have to do with me?!

Jane's cackling laughter erupted from her cube at this point.

Musketeer #1: Well you can put on your pinstripe pants and we can all go out for a beer.

I should mention that I used to have a pair of black pinstripe pants that apparently looked to him like men's pants, because whenever I wore them, he told me I was dressed like a man and called me "buddy", and said I should come to the bar with the guys to pick up chicks.

So, here I am in the office, despite my hangover from last night's party when I drank heavily (but didn't break any laws!) and went about dressed like a man. Good thing the banks are closed, or I'd have to actually do some real work.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Gee, thanks

Well I was almost going to be social today and join the crowd in the kitchen for lunch. Almost. I heated up my frozen dinner (chicken alfredo with pasta and broccoli) in the microwave and returned to my desk to let it do it's thing. "Eve", who is pregnant again after giving birth this summer to twins, walked by and started making gagging noises and protesting loudly against "that smell". Ok, whatever. She's pregnant, she's got smell issues. I tried to ignore it. Once my food finished heating up, I took it to my desk. Then I changed my mind and thought maybe today I'd eat lunch with the loonies. As I was walking toward the kitchen, there was Eve again, carrying on about that awful smell. "What is that?! It's disgusting, ugh!"

I turned around and went back to my desk. It's one thing to be sensitive to smells when you're pregnant. It's quite another to make a big scene, including gagging noises, about how disgusting someone's lunch is. I did have to go back to the kitchen to get some water though, and as I passed by the loonies, I overheard snippets of their conversation- Musketeer #1 was going off about circumcision again. Nutjob had a bag full of slimy strawberries and was trying to pawn them off on everyone. The broker who yells with his mouth full of food was getting all nice and settled in. And Bruce, ah Bruce, was talking to anyone who would listen about his body. Yeah, definitely better off eating at my desk today.

This woman needs more work to do

It's hard not to overhear things when you're all in a bunch of cubicles. The other day, when Jane was getting ready to order more coffee, Nutjob rushed into her cube and asked her to ask for some free samples.

Nutjob: The guy said they're more than happy to give out free samples of special blends!

Jane: Ok, I'll ask.

The next day:

Jane: Here, Nutjob, he sent two free samples.

Nutjob: Ooooh, good! (takes samples and hides them in her cube somewhere)

I arrived to the smell of some kind of flavored coffee wafting out of the kitchen.

Me: What's brewing, Nutjob?

Nutjob (gushing): Chocolate Nut! I'm so excited, that's why I came in early!!!

Me: You came in early to brew the coffee?

Nutjob: Yeah!!! It's the special kind!

I brought my coffee mug into the kitchen to sample it- this is the mug I always use, the one I brought from home that my sister brought back for me from Paris. I set it down on the counter, and Nutjob got a mug from the cabinet. While I was getting creamer out of the fridge, I got some for her too. She was so excited to try the new coffee that she poured her creamers and sugar into my mug. I almost said something, and then thought... why bother. I'll just look for it in the dishwasher later and make sure it runs an extra five or six cycles to ensure it's been sterilized.

Friday, March 18, 2005

How to tell the wife pays the bills in this marriage

Puppydog (the salesperson who cheerfully bounces along wherever FLS goes) called to find out how to cancel his direct deposit, since he was closing his bank account. I emailed him the form to fill out, and told him to call me if he had questions... as I knew he would.

Puppydog: Uh.... ok, so I check off where it says "delete account"?

Me: Yeah.

Puppydog: And that's it?

Me: No, you need to provide the account number there.

P: Oh. How do I know what my account number is?

(oh boy)

Me: It's on your checks, and it's on your statements. Do you have a check in front of you?

P: Yeah. I see the routing number... I guess the rest of those numbers are my account number?

Me: Well, usually the check number itself is down there, with a zero in front of it.

A few more seconds and we'd figured out which was the check number and which was the account number. That was pretty much it until I reminded him (as it says in big letters on the top of the form) to attach a voided check so corporate could verify that it was in fact his account.

P: Wait. You want me to put a bogus check with this?

Me: Just take a check out of your checkbook, write "void" on it, and staple it to the form.

P: Oh! Ok, that's easy!

Oh gee, I guess I should have just said "attach a voided check" in the first place, eh? Idiot.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

My review: A progress report (part 2)

My boss was in the office again today, and all day she swore she'd get to my and JerseyGirl's reviews by the end of the day. I held out about as much hope for that as for an actual resolution between the NHL and NHLPA in the next century. I was shocked when, at 4pm she started preparing the reviews, and at 4:30, called JerseyGirl down. They were in her office for all of about 10 minutes, when JerseyGirl emerged, review in hand, headed to the copy room. When she returned, she went back into my boss's office and closed the door. They commenced a nice long BS session, which lasted until 5:30 (our closing time). Not one to be in the office one minute past 5:30, JerseyGirl burst out of my boss's office and headed out the door. My boss apologized and asked if I minded staying "for a few minutes". Sure, no problem. If there's anything worth staying late at work for, it's a review. Especially when you know it's going to be a good one.

About a half an hour later, she was finally ready and I went into her office. Just as with JerseyGirl's review, mine was over in about 10 minutes, and we talked about my boss's boyfriend for the next 40 minutes. Specifically, why she's going to dump him (this time).

So, all of you out there who were placing bets, pay up! I'm as shocked as the rest of you, to be quite honest.

Birthday stupidity

The pizza party-turned breakfast-turned pizza party for PartnerInCrime was today. This morning I happened to come up on the elevator at the same time as Nutjob, who asked me if we had enough petty cash for 3 pizzas. Idly making conversation, I asked her what time we'd be having the pizza, and she replied "oh, about noon".

Now, perhaps I'm wrong, but I seem to recall that the whole point of planning these stupid pizza parties for the late afternoon was so that we didn't have a) all of the admins disappearing at once, and b) any hurt feelings when the people with 1:00 lunches got left out of the party at 12:00. But hey, what do I know. I'm just the voice of reason. I told her to check with my boss before she ordered. (Naturally my boss told her to go ahead with the noon plan).

Noon came around and the pizzas arrived. As I walked to the conference room to grab a slice and chat with the rest of the patients, I happened to notice a sign on PartnerInCrime's office door: "Conference Call In Progress". Well don't that beat all. After all the shuffling and re-arranging, the guest of honor missed out on his own pizza party.

When will they start listening to me???

Leave me alone, I'm not Irish (and neither are you)

I've never really understood St. Patrick's Day, probably because I'm not Irish. It seems like a day to celebrate being Irish, which is all well and good, but when the St. Patrick's Day Police come out, I get a little annoyed. Especially when said officers aren't even Irish themselves.

Jane gets a bit of a pass- she at least is part Irish. But Nutjob? Give me a break. This morning, each person who arrived was greeted with a chorus of "Ok, where's your green?" and general badgering about the wearin' o' the green. We have a few people of Irish descent in the office, and they all kept the holiday spirit by wearing loud green ties that probably should have stayed in the back of the closet with all the other 1970's ties, but hey, all in good fun. HeadHoncho (who is Italian-American) even wore a green tie today, specifically because (as he stated) Jane gave him such a hard time about it last year. Noting my black turtleneck sweater, gray and black skirt and black tights, he grinned and said "I see SilentWitness is wearing her St. Patrick's Day outfit". You bet. Hardly distinguishable from my Spring Equinox outfit, my Arbor Day outfit, my Flag Day outfit... you get the idea. But the pinnacle of badgering came when FoulMouthedOldFart wandered back to my desk, sporting an obnoxiously bright green polo shirt. Nutjob jumped up.

Nutjob: Where's your green?!

FMOF: Huh? What are you talking about? Right here!

Nutjob (squealing): Ohhhh! I didn't notice.

Are we in third grade here? I'd hardly be surprised to have walked in today and found cardboard cutout shamrocks on all the windows. Fortunately though, I was spared Musketeer #1's antics, since he was out of the office. He never misses an opportunity to hide a picture of a leprechaun somewhere on my desk, capitalizing on the fact that leprechauns really freak me out.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some green beer to go drink.

Cruisin' for a bruisin'

Shut up, shut up, shut up about your cruise!!!! Stop asking EVERYONE WHO PASSES YOUR DESK if they've ever been on a cruise, if they liked it, if they got seasick, if there was a lot of food, if it was fun, if there were storms, what you should wear.... And wouldn't it figure that she snagged the ONE GUY in the office who's "made 5 crossings" across the Atlantic and gave a pompous 5-minute monologue about how cruises are nothing in comparison to crossings, it's not like you have an island to go to every day, it's just blue, blue when you look up, blue when you look down, and god forbid you get caught in a hurricane. After his speech, he wandered into the kitchen, and on his way back out, stopped AGAIN to tell Nutjob about the cruise his sister went on. And poor Jane, I actually feel bad for her. She went on a cruise recently, so she's a sitting duck for Nutjob's incessant questions. Every single day, Nutjob runs into her cube to ask her something cruise-related.

People, this cruise is not until JANUARY 2006. I will not last that long. Somehow I survived Hawaii (three times) but this is going to put me over the edge.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

My review: A progress report (Part 1)

It will come as no surprise to most of you that I in fact did not get my review today. Why? My boss spent the last hour and a half of her time here searching the internet for images of The Cat in the Hat and various other Dr. Seuss related themes.

I shit you not.

She's psychic now

Somehow, Nutjob must have known yesterday that she'd be sick today. She stayed late to finish a project for the Musketeers that didn't have to be done until today. Add to that the fact that Angelfish called out sick yesterday, and no one in this office can be feeling the least bit ill without her suddenly, mysteriously, experiencing the same symptoms. So, I was not surprised when this morning I listened to my voicemail and heard a message from Nutjob (which she left at 6 a.m.) telling me in a perfectly normal voice that she wasn't feeling very well, so she wouldn't be in today. Whew, good thing she got all her work done yesterday!

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

It's that time of year

Time for my annual review. My boss called me today and said to get my objectives ready, she'd do my review tomorrow when she comes to my office. So, I figured I ought to start working on them...

1. Instigate as much friction between Jane and Nutjob as possible. Sit back and watch the sparks fly.

2. Install an office-wide weather notification system, in an effort to cut down on panic over snow storms.

3. Continue to closely monitor PhoneSwindler's expense reports, to keep him from swindling.

4. Provide a continuous supply of homemade baked goods, and listen to the Psycho Dieters complain about the calories as they wolf them down.

5. Try to convince FoulMouthedOldFart that now that he's made his big giant colossal deal, he can retire, and stop coming to the office to yell about the Yankees and pussy.

Think I can handle all this in the coming year? Think it will at least get me my cost-of-living increase?

PS I can virtually guarantee that I will not actually have my review tomorrow. I figure it'll get done sometime in the next two weeks, and will take another two weeks to get HeadHoncho's signature on it before being sent to HR. If I do get that cost-of-living increase, at least I'll have a nice fat retro pay check coming my way.

Monday, March 14, 2005


Nutjob must be feeling ignored again, because she let fly with one of those sneezes. When my dad sneezes, you think the house is going to come down. Nutjob's are even worse than that because she kind of yells at the same time. So, she sneezed, and several people nearby (myself NOT included) grudgingly said "Bless you". Musketeer #2 must have taken his fiesty pills this morning. Also, let me supply a disclaimer in advance: my overuse of exclamation points here is not some remnant of my 14 year old note-writing-in-class days, it's purely to emphasize that everything she says this morning is loud, and falsely bright and chirpy.

Musketeer #2: Nutjob, I don't know if you heard it, but someone over at the airport said "bless you". (we work near a small airport)

Nutjob: What?!

Musketeer #2: I said someone at the airport said "bless you".

Nutjob: At O'Hare?!!

Musketeer #2: Yeah, at O'Hare.

Nutjob: But that's all the way in Chicago!!!

Musketeer #2: [pained laughter]

Nutjob: I thought you were going to say Honolulu!!!

Musketeer #2 walked away muttering "god bless her", and then apparently thought better of it, because he came back and told her "Don't even start, with Hawaii".

Nutjob: You, know, pretty soon I'll have another countdown!!!

He just walked away, shaking his head.

For those of you who were not with me with my last blog, this woman is obsessed with Hawaii. She went there on vacation 3 times in the space of 18 months. Before her first trip, all we heard every day was how many days she had left before she left. She started this countdown somwhere around day 210. Now that Loserboyfriend and she are on the outs, she has nothing big to plan and blab about. Oh wait, make that "had nothing". Her family is going on a cruise in January (yes, 2006) and for the last week or so, all we've heard is her dithering about whether to go or not. She asked everyone for their opinion. Everyone but me, of course. She knows better. But, now that she's apparently decided to go, we are evidently going to be treated to another infamous "Nutjob countdown". I'm going to have my own countdown: how many days before I shove her into a volcano.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

It's really not about the coffee

(This not blogging from work rule really stinks. I have to save up my stories for night time, when I'm distracted by non-work-related things).

Yesterday morning, Nutjob was the victim of my PMS and headache induced grouchiness. Normally, when she pulls her stunts I just walk away but this time I decided to let her know she pissed me off.

It all started bright and early, before the office officially opened. She ran up to PartnerInCrime, and to Jane (separately), and as I overheard the conversations it ocurred to me that she is exactly like a 4-year old.

Nutjob: Guess what I got! (in a sing-songy "you'll never guess" voice)

Jane: I don't know, what did you get?

Nutjob: Look what I got! Coffee-cake coffee!

Jane: Oh, that's interesting.

Nujtob: I was in (store name) and I saw the guy who came to give us coffee! And he gave me this! I can't wait to brew it!

At this point, I should mention that we have three coffee pots, the fancy airpot type. Two of these were in use in the conference room, for a meeting. There was one left in the kitchen, not being used. A good while after overhearing this conversation, I decided I wanted some coffee myself, so I went into the kitchen and set up the pot to brew. Since it takes 6 minutes, I walked out of the kitchen to go do something else. Not long after I heard the "beep" of the coffee machine, I went in to pour myself a cup of my new addiction. What did I see? The coffee pot, empty, steaming, next to the sink, and Nutjob preparing to brew a package of coffee. Being the astute observer that I am, I immediately understood what happened, and it really pissed me off that she dumped my fresh pot of coffee so she could brew her fruity-ass coffee cake coffee blend. I decided for once not to walk on eggshells in an effort to spare her delicate mental state.

Me: Where is the coffee that was in here?

Nutjob: Oh, it was old, so I dumped it.

Me: No it wasn't. I just brewed it. It finished two minutes ago. (Don't you notice the fucking STEAM coming out of the pot, you twit?)

Nutjob: No, there was only this much left (holding up her fingers to show about an eighth of a pot)

Me: No. I just brewed that. It was brand new.

Nutjob: No it wasn't.

At this point I was so infuriated that she'd a) dumped a perfectly good pot of coffee so she could take over with her flavored crap and b) stood there boldly LYING to me about it that I decided I better leave.

Me: Fine. Whatever.

I walked out. A minute later I turned around and went back into the kitchen.

Me: You know what? Could you please let me know when you're done with that so I can brew a pot of regular coffee?

No answer. Several minutes later, I was standing at Jane's desk, showing her how to do something, when I noticed Nutjob walk in the direction of my desk with a cup of coffee. I went over to investigate. There on my desk was a cup of coffee and one little creamer (how does she know I only use 1 creamer?).

Me: Nutjob, what's this?

Nutjob (a smirk in her voice): That's a cup of regular coffee. I poured mine into something else and brewed a pot of regular.

Me: Oh. Thank you. (since that's what you should have done anyway, but must you serve it to me, you manipulative whore?)

You can bet your bippy I didn't drink that coffee. She is one vindictive bitch and I have no doubt there was Visine in it. I waited for her to walk away from her desk and dumped it in the sink, and got my own nice, hot, steaming cup of delicious wonderful, eye-opening, brain-stimulating cup of coffee. She was pissed off at me all day. Victory is mine, mwah ha ha ha ha.

Told you so...

Certainly, loyal readers, you will all recall the birthday lunch "situation" of last year, and how I was pushing for taking the birthday person out after work? And how my boss resolved the situation by deciding we'd have a gay old pizza party on the person's birthday, late in the afternoon just before the office closed? And how I told you all that just would not work? I'm not going to get all Rush Limbaugh on you and tell you how I predicted this long ago, but... We had our first wrinkle in the birthday pizza plan.

PartnerInCrime's birthday is tomorrow. Because my boss is in our office on Thursdays, the pizza party was planned for this afternoon. However, when my boss arrived, Nutjob followed her like a stray puppy from the door to her office, babbling all the way about pizza and breakfast. I waited until she was gone and my boss was settled to go into my boss's office and find out what was going on.

Me: What was that all about?

My boss: We're not having the pizza this afternoon.

Me: Oh. Why not?

My boss: Because PartnerInCrime says he doesn't think he'll be hungry at 4:30.

Me: You're kidding.

My boss: Nope. He wants a breakfast instead.

I know she said yes to the breakfast just to get Nutjob off her back, but there are a few logisitcal problems with this. Like, oh, we're supposed to be WORKING in the morning? HeadHoncho was none too thrilled about us all coming back after an hour and a half lunch for these birthdays, I doubt he'll be happy about us all hanging out in the conference room in the morning. (Not that he'd actually be here to see it...)

And I have to say, I am surprised at PartnerInCrime. He's the manager of a department, surely he has other things to worry about besides when and what kind of birthday celebration we'll have. This is the first birthday of the year. Mark my words, this sets a bad precedent. We'll have special requests each birthday and before you know it, we'll have a parade of monkeys with balloons running through the office. Oh wait, we have that now.

Monday, March 07, 2005

That reminds me...

The comments in the post "Someone call a priest" reminded me of a conversation I had with the Musketeers quite some time ago, but I thought you'd all appreciate it.

Most people in my office know I'm a little... out there... when it comes to religion. Somehow they just seem to know that I don't subscribe to any of the "big three" and for the most part I don't really care. They do get confused though when they get into a religious discussion with me and discover I know my Bible pretty damn well (oops, that's probably a sin or something). Anyway. One day, we were sitting in the kitchen eating lunch, and the topic of male pattern baldness came up. Silent Husband has been losing his hair at kind of a young age for that kind of thing, and swears when it gets to a certain point he will shave his head entirely. I mentioned this to them, and also mentioned that he wants to keep his goatee and dye it black.

Me: I don't want him to do that. He'll look like Anton LaVey.

Confused silence.

Musketeer #1: Who is Anton LaVey?

My brain: Oh, great. This is going to look really good.

Me: Oh... uh... he was the.... leader of the Church of Satan.

I tried to get that last part out in sort of a mumble, but they all heard it. An uncomfortable silence ensued and I was actually saved by Nutjob running in and prattling on about something.

PS- No I am not a Satanist. Not that there's anything wrong with that.


There is no privacy in my office. You can hear everyone's phone conversations, even the ones in private offices. Musketeer #2's office is directly behind my cube, and I overheard this end of his phone conversation today:

"Oh, just hearing her name gives me chills.... Seriously when you said her name, a chill went right up my spine. I have to go have a bowel movement now."

Um, excuse me? First of all, ew. Second of all, where is the connection there? And what is the deal with my office and bathroom issues?!

Saturday, March 05, 2005

It's all in the box

Nutjob is back from Florida. I do have a rather strange story to tell about that, but that will come later. Yesterday afternoon, I walked past her desk and noticed that she was sitting on the floor, pre-school style, fighting with a box and cutting up bright blue paper. Of course, I had to ask...

Me: Hey Nutjob, what are you up to?

Nutjob: Uh! Ummm.... I'm doing the.... it's the box.... you know, JerseyGirl, the flyer?

Me: I have no idea what you're talking about.

Nutjob: Oh, your boss didn't tell you?

Me: No

Nutjob: Oh! For JerseyGirl's brother... Iraq!

Ahhh.... I pieced this together as "I'm making a box for the goods we're sending JerseyGirl's brother in Iraq. Didn't you see your boss's flyer?" This was confirmed when I got back to my desk and saw a flyer on my chair- with a picture of JerseyGirl's brother in his dress blues and a list of things that a soldier in Iraq would find useful. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I doubt the Post Office is going to mail a box all decorated with red, white and blue paper... Hopefully she'll figure out to wrap it in brown paper first.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Someone call a priest

I don't think I've posted many stories illustrating how wacky my boss is. Let me try to describe it to you: adult ADD with a dash of sassiness and a little bit of just plain strangeness thrown in. Here is a conversation we had recently. It struck me as awfully funny but hey, maybe I was a little punchy at the time.

Her: What file number is it?

Me: 66699

Her: Wow. [pause] 666 huh? Wow, that's like... a devil, and half an upside-down devil. No, wait, two-thirds of an upside-down devil.

Me (speechless at first, then laughing my butt off).

How do you beat that? I will never look at file numbers the same again.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Snow job

This morning I awoke to my radio-alarm and laid in bed listening to the traffic report. It having snowed all night I figured maybe we'd luck out with a delayed opening as well today. No such luck- all major roads were clear, although some secondary roads in the outlying parts of the state were questionable. The cats picked that moment to start pulling the blankets back and generally putting up a whiny racket so I figured I might as well get out of bed and start the day. I considered calling my boss to see if we should have a delayed opening, but figured there wasn't any point in that.

After my shower, I went downstairs for a bowl of cereal, which I was eating while watching the news when the phone rang. It was PartnerInCrime (keep in mind it's only 6:30am).

PIC: You can just disregard that message I left.

Me: What message?

PIC: I called a few minutes ago and left you a message that we're having a delayed opening. Forget it, YourBoss is closing the office.

Me: What?!

PIC: Yeah, it's supposed to keep snowing all day, and Jane said she hasn't been plowed out yet, so...

Me: But the news just said it's supposed to stop in about an hour and the sun is supposed to come out.

PIC: Well, I don't know, but the roads here are bad. (He lives 10 minutes from me).

Me: Ok...

I hung up. Jane.... it figures. She must have called my boss first thing in the morning to whine about the conditions. Not plowed out, my ass. She lives in a very big suburb that even has a city section to it. Anything for a day off. I peered out my window. Huh, look at that. I could see blacktop on the main road behind my house. I decided to call my boss just to see what was up.

Me: We're closing the office?

My Boss: Yeah. Well PIC and Jane said it's bad...

Me: Jane? (couldn't help myself there, that came out in kind of a laugh)

My Boss: Yeah I know, Jane always thinks it's bad. Dammit, I knew I should have called you first.

Me: I heard the roads are clear.

My Boss: Yeah, but it's getting to them that's a problem. I talked to Joe and Schmo and they both said their areas were bad. Shoot. Well, I'm sure everyone's been called already anyway.

Me: Yeah, ok, well I just wanted to check in. (I wasn't sure what to say- I had basically called her out of disbelief)

So, since I am feeling a little cabin crazy after nearly a week of laying around on the bed and the couch, I went out for a drive. I got some groceries, went to a home goods store. The roads were perfectly clear and the scenery was beautiful. I guess I should consider myself lucky, but I am just really embarassed. Tomorrow will be fun when the Musketeers start asking why the office was closed.