There’s a funky smell coming from the pie safe. we’ve taken everything out, inspected, and can’t figure out what it is. It definitely gets stronger when we open the doors, so it’s gotta be coming from inside. Smells like rotting food, though there’s no food inside it.
I need to update this whole blog more often, so that I’m not trying to cram lots of thoughts into one post. Plus, I really enjoyed reading through some old posts recently, so I need to keep writing so I can read posts later. I’m going to try posts with multiple thoughts in them, for those stories that are slightly longer than tweets, but shorter than a full-on post.
I’ve been on some kind of emotional rollercoaster recently. I’ll be sitting on the couch, look up and feel awesome, like everything’s just right in the world, look down, look up, and WHAM! I get hit head-on with a freight train of some emotion, and start tearing up, feel like crying, but not in a bad way, then halfway through that, some other emotion runs me over from the side. Makes me tired.
I walked into the break room today and a woman was making a fairly large sub sandwich that contained sliced hard boiled eggs (that she was slicing on the counter) and large pieces of lettuce, taking up the entirety of the long counter and standing in front of the fridge opening space, leaving only the space occupied by microwaves and the area next to the sink that’s not occupied with coffeemakers available. I wiggled around her to get my lunch out, then chose to assemble my lunch in the area next to the coffeemakers so I wasn’t in front of the paper towel dispenser or crowding the sink and taking up all the room that was left. As I moved to put my lunch in the microwave, thereby crossing in front of the sink and paper towel thing, Sandwich Lady practically pushed by me with a nasty look to get a paper towel, saying “excuse me!” as she left. Because clearly, I was the one most in the way. The other lunch-makers and I shared looks of “Did she really just do that?!” as she flounced out with her sandwich.