The Twentysomething Teenager
Posted: July 8, 2008 Filed under: War and Peace 5 CommentsI hope some of you won’t claim it’s an understatement when I say I’ve been really, really grouchy lately. Combine that with having absolutely nothing to do at work (which sounds fun, but in reality is…um…BORING), and it does not make for a sociable Roni.
Today was no exception, although when people tried talking to me I did my best to respond using several words of several syllables each (otherwise, I’d pretty much have regressed into a sulky teenager again. No, wait! I was never a sulky teenager! Right, Mom?) and laughing when they were obviously attempting to be funny. It was a little bit cool that I was sitting near a bunch of people who had trained me when I first started working here, and they’d actually ask me questions about work. Go figure. Like I know anything. Oh yes – I am incredible! I know everything. (At least, that’s what I tend to think in my grouchy state of mind.)
This is really all just background, and I needed to write a post that was longer than two sentences. Also, I was hoping that I would come off as being a little bit funny, or maybe fun to read. Did it work?
I turned to a coworker (also one of my former trainers) when she asked me a question. No idea what the question was, but you can bet I answered the heck out of it. Then I swiveled my sort-of-comfy office chair back towards my computer, except in doing so I somehow managed to catch my fingers between the desk and the arm of the chair, pinching them quite soundly. And I really mean quite soundly. They turned super-ultra-uber red and, being the grouch that I am, I might have burst into tears if not for my amazing self-control at work. (It never seems to come into play much of anywhere else…)
Instead of bursting into tears, I headed to the bathroom to run cold water over my hand. I did my best to calm down and was on my way to recovery, and my way back to my desk, when I passed the drinking fountain and decided to get a drink to help soothe my nerves (and hurt feelings).
This particular drinking fountain usually comes out in a little, tiny, pitiful stream about 1″ from the faucet. And you have to press the knob really hard to get the water to start pumping.
Except, apparently, they have fixed this drinking fountain.
So that it now shoots a stream that is (I am so not making this up) well over a foot in height.
Guess where my face was at the time it started going?
Yeah, I’m not sure that I’ve ever been so relieved that there was no one near me to see that happen. Wouldn’t you know, though, instead of laughing about it – and seriously, isn’t that just a little bit funny? – I again reverted to my grouchy Roni mood and rushed back to the bathroom so that no one would see me cry.
(For the record, I did go get a drink once my face was dried off. It was delicious. And my hand even felt better by the time I finally got back to my desk.)
Jarom
Mika
hilleries 
the water fountain story sounds hilarious. i’m sure the day was exponentially worse b/c of your sore neck. i, too, almost cried at work the day after i hurt it.
Oh man. Days like this are awful for me. It’s especially bad when I’m faced with a situation that should be hilarious, and I’m determined to be grumpy instead. Honestly, sometimes it’s easier just to be a grump, especially when I’m already in a grumpy mood.
Way to laugh about it later, and to not boycott the fountain. :)
NEVER sulky as a teenager. I swear!
Here, it’s as hot as heck. After sleeping only 1.5 hours the night before, I did all the right things to ensure sleeping well last night. Worked just fine until 3AM when I woke up feeling like my foot had been stung. Then I felt a mosquito bite on my leg. By the time I got to the bathroom to put my foot under water, I was feeling several other bites. Evidently, the sting feeling on my foot was just a virulent mosquito bite. After killing the offending bug, I moved to the cooler (and safer?) front room. Then I slept until 5AM when I was awakened by another mosquito bite. Never did find that culprit.
When President Hinckley died, we gathered the kids together to tell them, and Megan just sat there saying, “Poor poor. Poor poor. Poor poor.” She never did quite get around to telling us poor poor what. But we all liked it so much that now it is common at our house that when someone is experiencing something less-than-pleasant, someone else will pat them and tell them, “Poor poor.”
It sounds to me like you could use a good, “Poor poor.”
My wife and I have a new favorite line from a sitcom, and it’s perfect for times like this.
“Would it make you feel better if you got up and made us some nachos?”