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After almost a dozen years with the same company, some things just stick with you. They are as ingrained as etched wrinkles on hands and faces accustomed to life, and so ordinary that you no longer notice them. It’s been over a week and I am still tripping myself up.

In the midst of working on a document, I might channel a co-worker who keeps her mouse buttons swapped. It’s not because she is left-handed but because it is more ergonomically beneficial for her. Mixing up your left and right mouse buttons can totally confuse the daylights out of most people, not just me. The sad thing is it might take me a few moments to realize why something is not happening that I expect to, and in those few moments I will have repeated the swapped mouse thing several times, expecting the answer/action to change. (sigh)

Family and friends have often teased me about the way I answer the phone. A smattering of personal phone call greetings:
“Yes?”
“Hey”
“What.” (said in a normal, not querying, tone)
“Hi”
“Who’s this?”

How I answer the phone:
“Good morning/afternoon/evening.”

I get mistaken for being a business which is helpful when being bombarded with charity and political cold callers. In an office it is just considered good (business) manners so I never got teased there. At home? I get hangups because the caller thought they miss-dialed.

I am still up and dressed in the morning, logging on the computer to check threads I am following, email. etc. Hubby is a long-time self-employed programmer. He stumbles down the hall in his jammies and doesn’t shower and dress until midday.

And I feel like I am playing hooky when I take the puppies for an extended midday walk. (The guilt thing? It *so* has to go!)

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and Scentsdisability

In the cold and flue season, it is common practice to supply hand sanitizer for community gatherings. Many churches offer small containers of both tissues and hand sanitizer in the pews.

Up in the choir loft there is the ubiquitous container of hand sanitizer, but choir members are expected to provide their own tissues. The black music folders have small side pockets to tuck tissues into. The tissues could remain there for months if the member was exceptionally healthy. Other times, tucking one or two tissues is simply not enough and one must plead in hushed whispers for a spare from a neighboring singer.

Although most singers do not wear heavy scent (it tends to interfere with the vocal chords and breathing), this same precaution does not appear to extend to tissues. Scented tissues, left inside a music folder for weeks on end actually end up with a stronger scent than they started with.

An unsuspecting recipient of said scented tissue might then erupt into a full-scale sneezing fit instead of a discrete nasal expulsion.

I’m just sayin’.

Ahem.

(sigh)

It is a very strange sensation when the frogs bite back.

Eating a frog for breakfast every now and then (so that nothing worse will happen to you that day) is a good practice. By tackling and completing (or just making progress on) an avoided a delayed issue first thing in the day, you feel a sense of satisfaction and I-can-do-anything empowerment. That feeling can fire you up for the rest of the day.

A lot of the 500-pound gorillas in the room are really just puffed-up frogs. I never believe that even though I know it to be a fact.

So, when I walked into the meeting and saw the 500-pound gorilla trying to hide in the corner, looking at me with sorry eyes (they usually avoid eye contact) I knew there was going to be some frogs involved. And frogs do bite.

The 50-pound gorilla began to shrink the moment they began speaking. In less than 5 minutes it was small enough to flutter-kick my chest. Eliminating the job I held was sadly necessary as the company moved forward with its plans. Best of luck wishes, etc., etc.

The frog and I left the room. A 72-hour truce was declared between us, but the frog knew his days were numbered.

This is the best possible time for me to try new avenues of employment. I have no small children at home that need new clothes, trips to the pediatrician, medicines, and an inordinate amount of food. I am in good health. I am not dead, yet. There’s plenty of time to try one (or more!) places to explore and things to learn and do. Maybe I’ll find one that’ll even pay me so I can finish paying the blasted tooth fairy!

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