Flakey McFlakenstein Reporting For Duty

Yesterday, my first day back at work after my ten-day sanity hiatus/Christmas vacay, will go down in history as one of the longest days of my life. The only thing that can possibly compete with it for most interminable duration is the entire televised run of “Little House on the Prairie,” only with fewer bonnets and more profanity.

Before we proceed, let’s just for a minute picture Pa Ingalls dropping the F-bomb.

I know, right?

While on sanity hiatus, I had gotten a new cell phone. It’s a vast improvement over my old one in that it takes video, has a QWERTY keyboard, and actually makes and receives calls. In hoping that someone would call me so I could relax to the soothing sounds of my new rainforest-creatures ringtone, I had kept my new child on my desk all day. No one called except an apparently misguided yet psychic computer at the drug store, to inform me that a bottle of a drug I no longer take was waiting for me. Our conversation was deep and meaningful, but all too brief to offset the mind-numbitude of the rest of the day.

By the time I called it a draw at 5:30, my little brain was beyond fried. I hurriedly grabbed my coat and purse, and vacated the premises with my friend Gray (of Christmas Party Pâté Challenge fame). I had locked my doors, buckled my seatbelt, and effectively safeguarded myself against any remaining vestiges of the workday, when I realized I had left my precious, shiny new child on my desk. By itself. IN THE DARK!

I froze. I choked back panic. I struggled to breathe—but that was most likely a side effect from the fact that I was breathing into a plastic bag to try to alleviate the panic. Manic thoughts raced through my head faster than hippies fleeing a bath. What if someone stole it? What if someone tried to call me and I wasn’t there to be soothed by the rainforest creatures?

Happily, I came up with a solution by the time I was driving out of the parking deck. It was actually NOT to walk back and get the phone. Please. It was a two-block walk in cold rain, and I knew that Lawyer Boy and the cat were eagerly awaiting my arrival. Also my cute, cute pointy shoes felt like aliens were sitting down to a cheerful family dinner of my toes. I decided I would call Dan, one of the attorneys I work for, who was the only person I could think of who would still be chained to his desk at that hour, and I would ask him to put the phone in my desk drawer for protection. I knew he would do this for me, but not before he had plastered a post-it note that said, “this is NOT cute” over the phone’s front screen, a digital picture of the cat in a cardboard box. Whatever. I could deal with him hating on my cat in return for the safekeeping of my shiny baby. I had a plan! Hurray! Long live my mad skillz!

So I reached over and fumbled in my purse, looking for my phone, so I could call Dan…to ask him to put my phone in the drawer. It took me a good 10 seconds to realize the only way I was making that call was if my wallet spontaneously picked up a signal.