Nothing is Safe

So I forgot my cell phone this morning as I left for work. No big deal. Nonetheless, my primary mission after arriving home was to move it from the end table to my purse.

Nick and I do not have a land line. Really, the whole concept seems rather silly seeing as how we have decent cell reception and the people that want to talk to me or him already know how to contact me or him. Anyway, moving on.

Blindly, I reached my hand over the end table as I read through my personal email. My fingers met the surface of the table: no phone. I proceeded to look in every place where I typically leave my phone. I retraced all of my steps last night and even felt through icky sweaty exercise clothes to see if it had fallen in the laundry pile.

No dice.

Nick was not home. I could not even call my cell phone to see if I could hear it ringing. Hurriedly, I looked everywhere all over again to the same end: no cell phone to be found. Like I want to pay for a new cell phone right now! Mine is only a year old!

Finally, at the end of my wits, I downloaded Skype. I am sure it will only ever be used that one time, but I dialed my cell number. I heard Norah Jones singing “Turn Me On”. The sound was coming from the kitchen.

Before I go much further with this altogether thrilling tale (these are the happenings that I find exciting enough to blog about, mind you), I should give you some updates about Sophie. She has grown into a big big kitty. She is intimidatingly strong, and I have no doubt that she could put me in a headlock if I ever dawdled too much in the dishing out of the evening canned food.

A few weeks ago, Nick swore that she carried up one of his shoes from the basement. I did not really believe him. Carrying a shoe almost the same height as her would have been cumbersome going up stairs, no? Well, just last night I discovered one of my one-pound wrist weights deposited neatly on the living room floor when it belonged by my other weights downstairs. I guess maybe she could carry a shoe, then.

So, getting back to the story…no phone, no land line, Skype, “Turn Me On”, the kitchen. I looked over every surface of the counter top, and I even looked in a few cupboards and the refrigerator (I can be absentminded with the best of ’em). Finally, I went lower. I looked in the crevices next to the refrigerator and the ledge under the bottom cupboards. Meanwhile, I’ve redialed my number in Skype.

Finally, I noticed a reddish light flashing from beneath the oven. Sure enough, there it was…LODGED to the point where I had to lever the appliance up to get it out.

The whole incident, oddly, reminded me of my mom. Dad would always prepare himself a cup of coffee and then forget it on the counter or kitchen table; eventually, he would come back looking for it. Well, my mother, being the impish sort, took to hiding his coffee every time he forgot it. She’d stick it in cupboards, the oven, or the breadbox. Oh, it was great sport… we know how to make our fun living out in the middle of nowhere.

So, the unsettling prospect remains…is my impish cat my impish mother reincarnate? I am just grateful that my Faith negates the mere possibility…or I would be downright embarrassed at the things my cat has seen me do that I wouldn’t want my mother to see me do.


Learning to work on a team is important to surviving in the workforce. 30% of my grade in every class until the end is based on teamwork. Fun!

No, really…I am a nice person, and I get along with just about everybody. I find, however, that not everyone holds the same standards as I hold for myself, and not everyone cares about time management. I spent nearly all of last class frustrated.

I am not a “stay up until midnight the day it is due” type of person. I am a “get it done several days early and be done with it” person. I was shocked to learn that everybody in my team didn’t wig out as the deadlines drew near!

I felt like a young, idealistic teacher in a rough school. The beginning of every week I would remind everyone that we had a team assignment due in seven days. I would break up the assignment into the required sections and give people a chance to sign up for the parts they wanted.

I would post a schedule. “Can everybody have their part done by [x – day] so that we can combine the work into one voice?” They would all cheer in agreement, “Yes! That looks like a great schedule.” BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. Of course, as that young, idealistic teacher, I expected everything to remain just so in my manicured neighborhood with white picket fences.

Did anyone besides me turn in their parts on the agreed-upon date? Silly to even think they would, I know, but I assumed they would. You have much to learn, young padawan. The finished parts would leisurely roll in the day before the project was due and a feverish day of compiling and proofing would ensue.

The next team assignment came, and the next, and the next…and I would lay out the assignment, set agreed-upon due dates, and the pattern continued. DUDE! The funny thing is that I could have understood if people chimed in, “I can’t make the due date.” It was the blatant LYING that had my blood pressure (which I am trying to lower) soaring.

It was a management class. I don’t think I would make a good manager. If I had even one more week to work with that group I think I would have gotten downright nasty, which we all know is not very productive at all. That, and I had to bite my tongue so much over the course of the class that I think I have permanent dents.

Teamwork, yaaay…