Sophie Sunday

Part Angel, Part Devil

The Ugly lives. I continue to be wholly repulsed by the well-loved “fird.”

Even so, I dearly wish The Ugly had held her complete attention during her frisky mood last Friday afternoon. Instead, she made it her day’s work to spur me into a homicidal-rage-like state. I was playing with some arrangements of photographs that I plan to hang at my new desk. The best place to do a project like this is, of course, the floor. I did not affix the prints together very quickly…this is part of the reason I am no longer employed in an artistic profession (nothing ever seems perfect enough to call “done”).

I don’t know how many times Sophie charged my loose mosaic, skidding across the prints and chirping with pure glee at the fun she created. Of course I didn’t move my project elsewhere—I told myself, “It’s my floor, dammit, not hers.” Go ahead and laugh. I too see the holes in this logic…now…but at the time, I was prepared for a warring of our wills: just me and the imp.

Yeah, well, imps always win.

When Nick arrived home, he thought that (A) I was incredibly naive to have even entertained the idea of victory in my waged war and that (B) the situation was incredibly humorous. Instead of responding to my desperate cry, “Control YOUR cat!” he grabbed the camera.

Maybe you don’t know her face as well as I do, but that’s clearly mischief I see brewing in her eyes:

Part Angel, Part Devil Part Angel, Part Devil
Part Angel, Part Devil

Nickism No. 5

The things that come out of Nick’s mouth…you can’t just make this stuff up.

We’re out for a walk to enjoy the sunny evening as dusk falls. Rounding a corner, Nick sees a sign advertising for psychic readings.

Nick: Do you want to know your future?

Me: I’m better off not knowing.

Nick: You know what I think? I think that if I am going to schedule a psychic reading, a good psychic would call me first to help me make the appointment.

Move Around

My work life has been complicated over the past couple of years but especially the last 12 months.

My company has three main regional buildings across the country, and I worked in the Madison, Wisconsin building from the time I was hired in 2006. It just so happens that the company is also headquartered in Madison—meaning there is also a campus within the city.

My work over the last two years has necessitated the ownership of a desk in each location. It’s been very frustrating, especially as more and more of my time was required at HQ. You see, you can only have one “home office.” With that home office, you have 24/7 access and you are on the building-specific mailing list. I was told that you cannot claim multiple home offices. So, as the regional building continued to be home in name only, I was feeling increasingly unsettled with my impermanent desk, my impermanent phone, my impermanent everything at HQ.

I would run into people in the halls and they would ask, “Hey! Are you over here full time now?”

I always replied, “No, just five days a week!”

Due to a combination of a new manager, a desk shortage in the regional building, and pure logic, I now have a single, permanent desk at the national headquarters. Today was moving day—which was considerably complicated in my opinion. They had to move me first from my regional desk to my temporary desk at HQ, then from the temporary desk to my new resting place three rows over.

I was not surprised that they managed to lose all my equipment (docking station for my laptop, 2nd monitor, full keyboard, mouse…etc.). In spite of this, everyone was great and I have basically the same setup again because they were able to match all the models I had with new equipment. Still, moving is not fun.

It’s not like the work schedule stops to give a person time to unpack boxes. I did not have breaks in my schedule until the afternoon, and I was suffering from acute ADD. Alphabetize folders! Answer email! Hang photos! Answer questions! GO CRAZY!

It was in one of those spurts that I thoroughly amused myself. Maintaining two desks is serious business, man. I think I have enough paper clips to build a chain linking from here to Montana…and I haven’t started my treatment program yet for the excessive amounts of black, fine point pens that I have hungrily consumed at two locations.

As I unpacked my last box, I found a stapler. Yes, I packed my stapler…and I was thrilled to find it! It’s hard to find a good stapler these days.

Hell.

I’m Milton.

Sophie Sunday

Okay, I swear that I am able to write posts other than Sophie Sundays…though Sophie wonders why I would care to. I’ve been dealing with some discomfort (same old story, different day), and I went back to the pain clinic because it was a different sort of pain than normal. Good news is that there is nothing extremely wrong with me. My tumor has not changed much and isn’t causing problems…but arthritis has settled in my L4-L5 facet joints and my SI joints.

There isn’t much that can be done for it that isn’t already being done (since I am already being treated for back problems)…but it is a wake up call to stop being stubborn. Hey Laura: when it hurts, don’t do it. It’s certainly a hit to my ego that “can’t” has entered my vocabulary—but Sophie is ecstatic. She’s been getting much more lap time with me lately.

Sophie, Sophie, Sophie...

Sophie Sunday

Pet me, Human!

I was out of bed way too early for a Saturday. Nick wanted to work a little overtime, going in early so the whole day would not be lost. I came downstairs to spend some time with him before he left, but I started drifting back towards sleep as soon as I curled up on the couch.

Sophie was having none of it. She crawled over me and began to purr…aggressively. There is a code in this house. Sophie leaves us alone while we sleep during the night, but it’s “all Sophie, all the time” as soon as we stir. We put off moving and talking as long as possible when we wake each morning…because she’ll be on us as soon as we do either.

Since I had most certainly stirred by the time she found me on the couch, I was in serious violation of the code.