The Junk Drawer

Dear Heavenly Father,

We thank You today for getting Kathy safely to the muffler repair shop, following what sounded like cannon fire coming out the back of her car as she drove on a busy highway.

We thank You for giving her the ability to train one eye on the road in front and the other in back, just in case the muffler decided to divorce itself from her car right then and there.

We thank You for giving her steadiness under pressure the entire seven miles to the shop, four-ways on, driving only 15mph and annoying the hell out of everyone who followed her.

She made it there without so much as a stink eye.

We thank You for roads not too bumpy, places to pull over to let others pass, and for a suspension that she later learned kept the whole broken pipe assembly from dropping out.

We thank You for allowing Kathy to release her Kung Fu grip from the steering wheel upon arrival at the shop, and for her dear sister who picked her up so she didn’t have to waste money on cab fare getting home.

Speaking of money……

We do not thank You for the $600 bill, but all things considered, at least Kathy’s not shopping for a new car tomorrow.

Amen.

I work with a mug hoarder apparently.

Right before quittin’ time today, I walked into the kitchenette to rinse out my mug and found a colleague, Sherri (not her real name, or maybe it is) cleaning out her mugs.

Mugs. Plural. Like seven of them. I’m scared a little. Did she lose a bet?

It’s like a load of laundry in there. She’s got bubbles up to her elbows, a scratchy sponge and I don’t know what else. Maybe she is also doing laundry.

Busy cleaning, she missed the “I’m going to blog about this” look on my face and so here we are.

Let’s begin.

“Um? Are these all yours?”

“Yeah. I used them all during the week.”

“So, what’s the deal? You leave coffee in them and then grab another? Like disposable mugs?”

“No, they’re for oatmeal. You know, the instant packets.”

“Ah, yes. I used to do that. And uneaten oatmeal gets hard and crusty and you could mortar a brick wall with it?”

“Right. Hence, the violent scrubbing.”

We’re all about saving the environment at work, so I give her props for not using Styrofoam cups for her oatmeal and then the conversation shifts to all things mug.

Our favorites, what we like about their shape, height, weight and which ones have good “mug feel.”

Mug feel is critical. Bad mug feel is the death of mugs and the reason I have a cabinet full of them over the microwave.

They’ll never get used because they’re either too tall or too narrow (or both), or they’re the size of soup bowls or they’re too tiny for a respectable cup of coffee.

My favorite one at work is this:

Minus the spillage. That happened on a Monday, by the way. The day coffee gets all bitchy and ruinous about things.

This mug is the perfect height, width and weight. What I love most is the color. It’s such a soothing shade of blue. It makes me happy.

A happy Kathy is the goal, especially at work. I don’t even mind that it’s an ugly mug, in terms of the company stuff written on it. I got it free at a vendor expo and I don’t even buy from them in my job. But the mug is awesome and for that, I love Lehigh Valley Business Machines.

Now here’s my favorite mug at home:

I love my Tigger mug! As far as I know, you can only get one at Disney World, so I’m totally screwed if this one breaks.

Although I would fly 1,000 miles to get a new one if push came to shove.

It’s perfect for its short, stocky size and circumference, and has a good weight. A hair heavy, but I forgive it because it’s TIGGER!

Tigger makes me happy. And – all together now – a happy Kathy is the goal.

So, peeps. Tell me all about your favorite mug.

I know you have a favorite.

What makes it so?

So I’m walking to my car after grocery shopping and notice a woman parked next to my car.

She’s leaning into the driver’s side, with her empty cart positioned behind her.

I decide to give her a moment to load up her car and then wheel her cart back to the cart corral and then I can leave.

Except she doesn’t.

I wait longer than I should have to, peeved that she’s not walking her cart back to the cart zone and lady, just what are you doing?

It’s then I see her walk her cart to the back of her car and try a few times to make it stop rolling, so it’ll sit still there.

Again lady, what are you doing? If you think you’re just going to leave it there and pull away, you’re the laziest person on the planet because the cart corral is just two car spaces over.

My God, lady, are you really gonna leave that cart there and drive away?!

I see her lean into her car again and I’m getting more and more annoyed because she’s lazy and she’s not leaving the area so I can pull out without squashing her.

I decide to wait no more, back my car out of my space, and then pull over just in front of the cart that she’s too lazy to put away.

I put my car in park, mumble to myself Holy hell, she’s lazy and get out. I grab the cart, deciding that if this lady is going to be such a bad grocery store citizen, someone should put the cart back where it belongs.

And that someone will be me!

Hurray for good citizens!

Except.

Except as soon as I started wheeling it back to the corral, she said “Oh, I need that. I was just holding it there because I forgot something in my car.”

Oh.

Never mind.

It took me a while when I got home to scrape all that egg off my face.

I don’t profess to know what goes on in a typical men’s room and I don’t have a desire to know, really.

What happens in the men’s room should stay in the men’s room.

Except that weird things happen in the men’s rooms where I work and I’m unprotected from these stories, which my male co-workers keep foisting upon me.

To wit.

There is a guy who hangs out in the library where I work. No one recognizes him as an employee. Those who’ve seen him suspect he’s a townie who just likes hanging out in a library reading.

Fine. We love reading. People should be able to read in a library all day. That’s a good thing.

It’s when he uses the bathroom that things get a little interesting.

My co-worker has entered the men’s room to find Weird Guy standing at a urinal, doin’ his thang, as normal.

But with his shoes off to the side.

When he finishes, he puts his shoes back on and exits. Without washing his hands to boot.

Now.

I have to assume that he’s protecting his shoes from errant spray. I think I get that.

But if you’re going to have spray, do you really want it on your socks, which you then cover with your shoes, so all that residue bakes inside the rest of the day?

Is spray really a problem in there? Is that what happens? If he’s not concerned about spray, then why take the shoes off? Unless they’re platform shoes, and Weird Guy wants to be closer to the urinal, what’s the point? Is it more comfortable to pee without shoes on? Who does that?

So many questions.

The same guy has been spotted on another occasion by a different co-worker.

We’re all about saving energy where we work. The men’s and ladies rooms both have tiny vestibules leading into the actual restroom, which are lit.

It’s a habit of this co-worker to turn off that light as he enters the bathroom.

The actual bathroom has motion sensor lights in it, so that they only turn on when someone enters. The light remains on for a good while after a person exits, then automatically shuts off.

Now.

When he entered the restroom, he did his usual thing – turned off the vestibule light – and then opened the next door leading to the men’s room.

The light turned on automatically.

And there he found Weird Guy, standing at a urinal in a room that moments before was dark.

OK.

So.

What this means is that Weird Guy went into the men’s room, the light went on, but then he stayed. Motionless. For as long as it took for the light to turn off.

I. Do. Not. Understand.

I can find no reason a person wants to be in the bathroom in the dark, well after he’s finished doing his business.

What’s to do in there? You can’t even read! You can’t see anything! You’re in a bathroom in the pitch black scaring the crap out of people who come in after you. What are you doing Weird Guy????

So many questions.

I’m super grateful that nothing like this ever happens in the ladies room. The worst that happens is discovering that female college students are complete and total slobs.

But at least they’re slobs who pee wearing shoes with the lights on.

Those of you following me on Facebook learned this week that I had my very curly hair straightened at a salon, just for the fun of it.

Thought I’d post about it on the blog in case you’re not following me there. Why aren’t you following me there? Really, why not? Geesh! Go follow me on Facebook!

OK, let’s continue.

So. I’m back to curly now, but for just one day, I got to have the hair I’ve wanted all my life.

What I learned:

1. I got to be Clark Kent for a day. It was as though I was a totally different person, just by the length and style of my hair. I added probably 4-5 inches just by having it straightened.

I fooled a client of mine, who walked into my office and didn’t know it was me until he saw my whole non-curly self. When it registered, he had that cartoon reaction where he whipped his head back and forth and his eyes popped out.

2. You know that thing celebrity women with long straight hair do? They take each index finger and smooth hair strands away from their faces? Over and over. It annoys me when they do that because they appear rather full of themselves, with their shiny and luxurious hair. Like they know they have it all.

I did it all day. Couldn’t stop. And I loved it.

3. My straight hair became smooth as silk. This was perhaps one of the most enjoyable aspects of my new hair. Curls can sometimes feel silky, but not tight corkscrew like mine. I have kink and when it’s humid, game over.

Even on that foggy day, my hair behaved (with the right salon products) and I continued to run my hands over it when no one was looking. Only lunatics pet their own heads in public. Just sayin’.

4. Bed head after having the hair straightened actually turned out really good. I slept without pulling it back or covering it. When I woke up, I looked in the mirror and couldn’t believe how stunning it still appeared. Atheists have it all wrong. There is a God.

5. A cable knit beanie hat makes a fine stand-in for a shower cap. It’s bizarre to step into a shower wearing nothing but winter gear on your head, but you know. Gotta save the hair. And I did.

6. Women with curly hair want straight. Women with straight hair want curly. Very few women have what they want, but the right products and time investment make all the difference. It took the perfect gels, shampoo and conditioner, thirty minutes and no less than six different implements for my stylist to create the look.

Could I do it myself? Not on your life. But I’ll go back to my stylist when I want this look again for a special occasion.

7. I loved my new hair so much that I didn’t mind posting pictures of myself, despite the fact that I’ve gained back nearly all of the weight I lost last year. Most days I feel like a lumbering walrus. But on that day, I felt pretty.

For I had good hair.

And all was right in the world.

If anyone lives in my area and is looking for a professional stylist, who’ll give you expert advice and treatment for your hair, ring up Karen Johnson at The Artisan on Broad Street in Bethlehem, 610-867-2454.

Tell her I sent you and couldn’t shut up about the fabulous hair she gave me for one glorious day.