Lessons of the Week

This week has been interesting.  It has brought about fits of giggles, tears of annoyance, waves of rage, and dawning realizations.  I’d like to dedicate this post to the things I’ve learned this week.  A simple post with a hefty impact.  So she said modestly.

Commuting in the Rain is Nothing Like Dancing in the Streets

Driving to work in Northern New Jersey is a painful experience.  It is a knuckle-whitening, teeth clenching, foul-mouthed swearing nightmare.  And that’s all before I even leave my parking garage.  Throw rain in to the mix of a normal commute, and you might as well stick a fork in you – because you. are. done.

We’ve had spotty showers off and on all week in my area.  Nothing torrential.  Nothing earth shattering.  Something you would put your intermittent windshield wipers on for, in order to dissolve the splats and tire mist. To NJ, however, rain is an anomaly.  A demon of the sky:

“Why, oh why are these wet discs falling from the sky?  What am I to do except slam on my brakes as each droplet bounces off of my car?!  I must treat this “rain” (as they call it) as an agent of doom.  The only way to save myself is to stand still and lurch my car forward, every now and then.”

NJ drivers act as if they are dodging virus-filled hypodermic needles while navigating hot-air balloons, as they maneuver their way from Point A to Point B.  What exactly is the problem here?!?!  Step on the gas, and go.  Jiminy Crickets these people are going to give me an ulcer. 

Oh, and as a side note:  Stay out of the passing lane if you are A)  Not passing anyone  B)  Feel uncomfortable doing the speed limit or above C) Your car can’t make it up a hill.

Working Nine to Five is No Fun Without Lily Tomlin

If you’ve ever watched the 1980 movie “Nine to Five”, than you understand where I’m coming from.  If you’ve never watched it, then you should still read this, but none of it will make sense to you.  I highly suggest you Netflix it or do what you do in order to watch older movies.

Those of us that are gainfully employed are happy to be so.  I am certainly not asking to be jobless.  I’ve been there, and that’s no fun without Lily Tomlin, either.  Let’s face it though, what is?

I ask you, where is the Skinny & Sweet?  Where is the mistaken identity corpse stealing?  Where is the boss snatching and kidnapping? Why isn’t everyone going down to Charlie’s and getting drunk?

I feel I was sold a bill of goods on this whole “working” thing.  I want my toy back.  I’m going home.

 

 

 

I’ll be watching you.  You better call the Police

This week I’ve interacted with people in all sorts of ways:  Via Web Ex, Skype, Conference Calls, Through Social Media, and Via Finger-Gestures.  And, oh yeah, in person.

I must say, this has certainly been a week to highlight people’s deficits in perceiving verbal and non-verbal cues.  Myself included.

I’ve come to understand that if I’m consistently reaching out to people and they don’t reach back, than maybe my reaching isn’t so welcome.  I think this rule can be applied across universally. 

Heads up boys and girls:  The more you persist in trying to get someone to understand that you’re interesting, witty, charming and insightful, the more you’re not interesting, witty, charming or insightful.   With each unasked step you take, the more you tiptoe to that gray town of Stalker-ville.  You don’t want to live in Stalker-ville.  It’s full of Peeping-Toms and Lazy Susans. 

You can’t make someone comfortable if you are bombarding them with discomfort.  Back off.

Cats.  Now and Forever

This week, a friend posted a link to a fun website that showed how owning a cat can cause permanent mental health damage.  As I read through the 30+ examples, I began to notice that I fit most, if not all, of these criteria.

 

 

I sing to my cat on a daily basis.  The nightly ritual being a song that is composed by myself and is copyrighted, so back off:

The Monkey Butt Song

Giving some water, to my daughter

Monkeybutt, monkeybutt, monkeybutt

Giving some dinner, to my winner

Monkeybutt, monkeybutt, monkeybutt

Giving some treats, to my sweets

Monkeybutt, monkeybutt, monkeybutt

And in the morning, we will repeat

Monkeybutt, monkeybutt, monkeybutt

*I make myself uncomfortable, so she can remain comfortable.

*I no longer need an alarm clock, because she’s staring at me at 5:00am

*I find her 3:00am fits of energy annoying, not scary.

*I overspend on cat toys, when she’s more interested in the box it came in.

I’m OK with being that crazy cat lady.  I love my girl with all of my heart, and I think this list is hysterical.  I’m not sure it will be so hysterical when I’m 98 and am drowning in cat hair and nasty cat looks, but for now…I  think it’s hysterical.

Here’s the link to see the full list, because it’s hilarious:

http://distractify.com/people/personal/agonizing-struggles-that-prove-cat-owners-are-the-best-people-ever/

So my readers, that sums up this week’s lessons.  As Brad Hamilton so sagely uttered in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”:   Learn it.  Know it. Live it.

 

With Love,

Lady Butterfly

xoxo