Up on the Roof...Like, High
The roofers finally left after banging away all day. It’s our first roof replacement, and if I never see another shingle, it will be too soon. I had this bright idea I’d work from home today just “to keep an eye on things,” like I know anything about installing a roof. It’s been 12 hours of stomping around up there, and when the guys aren’t stomping, they are operating The World’s Loudest Nail Gun(s) and Accompanying Generator Thingy. When they aren’t stomping or operating, they are loitering in the shade out front.
I was irritated about that at first. Comfortable in my delightful bought-air abode all day, I couldn’t figure out why these guys seemed to only be able to work for 45 minutes at a time until I stepped outside with the dogs to inspect the progress and it was approximately 600° at 10:45 am. Only God knows what it’s like on the roof, so I decided to shut up and retreat inside.
In other news, it was one of my finer weeks at work. Every morning I scoop up a handful of vitamins, fish oils, blood pressure meds – pretty much everything keeping me alive at this point – and if I don’t grab a bite at home before I leave, I wait until I’ve munched on a little something at work before taking them. It was Tuesday, I think, when I realized mid-morning that not only hadn’t I eaten, I hadn’t pounded my stash. I hastily swallowed the pills.
No more than five minutes later, I stood up and ran into the wall of my cubicle.
“What’s wrong with you?” my work spouse asked. “Your eyes are glazed.”
“Not sure,” I said, legs wobbling. “I don’t feel right.”
It turns out I’d accidentally taken a dose of Trazodone, which my doctor has kindly prescribed for those nights when my brain won’t shut up. On an empty stomach, it packs quite a wallop.
Fortunately, my spouse knows her stimulants. Two Diet Mountain Dews later, I was back in business. Red-lining, to be sure, but productive.
Anyone who is a glorified servant in hell – otherwise known as “employed by a publicly-traded company” – knows that a work spouse is – if not a necessity – then a boon. I wouldn’t make it without mine. She sits within bitching distance of me. We’d stare each other in the face all day if not for our monitors, but occasionally one of us will lean to the side, stare across the aisle until the other picks up on the vibe, exchange A Very Pointed Look, and then both retract. Message received.
TGIF-ing so hard right now. White wine spritzer, anyone?
