Two Full Days
Guess What?
I have five minutes. That's right, you haters, five minutes. Five minutes to do anything I want. Five minutes to make the world stop and take a deep breath and close my eyes. Five glorious minutes. And what am I doing. Typing. Pathetic, I know.
Highlander was right, you know. Blogging is totally addictive. If I don't do it for a couple days I start jonesing. And Mike Norton was right, too. It's about time for this blog to get to the business of car repairs and bad hair days. Buckle up. I'm gonna get my rant on.
For the last two days, I've been in Full-Throttle Martha Stewart Mode. Or, that's what Highlander calls it anyway. I think it's actually a kind of a throw back to Nate. Once upon a time Nate was describing his ideal woman to me (in the event that I met her here in River City), and said he was looking for someone who could cook like Emeril, keep house like Martha and a few other things associated with a few other folks that I won't go into here. I, jokingly, told him that he had described me to a tee. Sometime later, when Highlander moved to River City, he blogged that, my assertions to Nate were no exaggeration. I guess that whole thing loses something in the retelling. Likely, a lot. Bottom line, when I'm in serious house-frau overdrive, he calls me Martha Stewart.
Now, Nate is coming for a visit. His first time in River City and we're looking at about four days of checking the sights and sounds of this town and catching up. Highlander and I are looking forward to it.
My family, being "hill people" raised me with a certain protocol when it comes to company. Especially, overnight company. You want guests to feel welcome and homey, but you also want them to feel special...that you've gone to some measure of trouble because they're important to you. You don't want to go overboard to the point where guests feel they have to dress for dinner or that they can't feel comfortable while they're visiting, but you want them to see that you've been looking forward to their visit.
I need to go pick Highlander up from work in about an hour and a half, and Nate should be here by then. The apartment is respectably clean. I've got some chicken, smoked sausage, rice and veggies in the crockpot and a loaf of banana bread baking in the oven. I needed to wind down a little, so here I am. Unloading on you guys. Again.
Work has been excrutiating. Knowing that I'm taking three days off next week, I've been trying to get things in my little world in some kind of shape so that they can idle for a bit, or finalized, or handed off. But, yesterday morning, while I was working on making a list of outstanding stuff at Hell (I know I said I'd be done with this job in two weeks, two weeks ago. Leave me alone. It's one of those little lies I have to tell myself to be able to sleep nights.), one of my bosses came to visit me and inform me that our current temp receptionist was an idiot. Oh, like that was news. Ellen started two weeks ago and if you look up the word 'vapid' in the dictionary, she'll be staring back at you...with a kind of vacant, lobotomized stare. It would have to be, because that's the only expression she ever has.
She was touted, by her agency, as being very computer savvy and having extensive background in marketing. Excellent. One of the responsibilities of our receptionist is to prepare marketing proposals for various upcoming jobs. This consists of printing out prepared sales sheets on various architectural and construction projects that our firm has done in the past, lists of clients, design awards, key employee resumes, company histories, for both our firm and any consultants (engineers, usually) that will be working with us on the potential upcoming project. Generally, 4-6 copies of the entire submittal are required, and then each copy is bound. It really can be a very time-consuming job. Difficult, however, it's not.
We had two proposals going out today, both to the same client, but for two different projects. Six copies of each. My boss gave the information, and an outline, to Ellen ten days ago. (This after a fiasco two weeks ago that had three key employees pushing to the last minute before the proposal was due, because Ellen totally misjudged her time and would have totally missed the deadline. And, hey, someone with an extensive marketing background should be intimately familiar with deadlines...wouldn't you think?)
So, as I said, yesterday, he stopped back by my cubicle to beg for some help. I glanced around at the piles and made a mental note of everything I had left to do and the time in which I had to do it, and grimaced as I realized I'd be working some overtime. Likely a great deal of it. And, frankly, Martha Stewart had shit to do at home. You know. So, I left all of my stuff to the side and busted my ass DOING ELLEN'S GODDAM JOB most of yesterday. And got so much done that it should have taken her about two hours max to finish everything this morning. My boss was falling all over himself thanking me last night. Stammering in awe at what I'd gotten done. But, hey, I was seriously motivated.
When I got home last night I was totally wasted. I had planned to hit the laundry last night, but that was a lost cause. I did a few things around the house. Baked a cherry, raspberry, blueberry pie, prepped veggies for the crockpot and then went to bed totally surrendering to the sweet bliss of sleep.
This morning, I started the crockpot and did another couple small things. Highlander loaded the laundry into my car, so that I could head directly to the laundrymat (oh joy!) when I got finished at work. I checked into how the proposals were going when I got there and was told that everything was going fine. Great. Some time to work on some of my own stuff. So, I started digging through the piles madly. Calling contractors and clients. Moving things down the line.
A couple hours later, when I assumed things on the proposals should be finished, I checked in with Ellen again. Still nothing. Hadn't started binding them yet. ::sigh:: I so badly needed to get home and get things done. And I could just see that I was going to be stuck staying late and working on this crap. And I REALLY didn't want to. And whenever I tried to hurry her up, she'd give me that look. That far-away void look and I thought, more than once, that maybe if I smacked her in the side of the head it would jump-start her brain. When that thought started to get irresistible, I had to force myself to walk away.
I brought various staff members up to speed on items I had been working on for them, answered all of my company emails and voice-mails and organized things on my desk that I thought might be needed in my absence. Then, I went back to see where Ellen was with the proposals. It had been, after all, four hours. And, to give her credit, she'd done about 15 minutes worth of work in that four hours. I went and talked to my boss and told him that she had very little work left and that I had things to do at home and intended to take my vacation time. Both he and Ellen calmly assured me repeatedly, that they'd be fine. So, I only put in an extra half hour today. Much less than I'd thought I'd be doing. I suppose I should have been grateful.
It's just that leaving that, to do laundry and sweep floors and clean toilets wasn't quite the reward I had envisioned for the hard work I'd put in. But, hey, I'm done. Now I can enjoy the next few days virtually guilt-free and even have some fun! Highlander can be proud of his home. Everyone wins when Martha visits. Somehow I'm sure he'd disagree. I think Martha scares him a little. And to give credit where credits most assuredly due, he has done quite a bit around here, too. I couldn't have done it without him.
Whew, two very full days. Five days off. Yip Pee!
I have five minutes. That's right, you haters, five minutes. Five minutes to do anything I want. Five minutes to make the world stop and take a deep breath and close my eyes. Five glorious minutes. And what am I doing. Typing. Pathetic, I know.
Highlander was right, you know. Blogging is totally addictive. If I don't do it for a couple days I start jonesing. And Mike Norton was right, too. It's about time for this blog to get to the business of car repairs and bad hair days. Buckle up. I'm gonna get my rant on.
For the last two days, I've been in Full-Throttle Martha Stewart Mode. Or, that's what Highlander calls it anyway. I think it's actually a kind of a throw back to Nate. Once upon a time Nate was describing his ideal woman to me (in the event that I met her here in River City), and said he was looking for someone who could cook like Emeril, keep house like Martha and a few other things associated with a few other folks that I won't go into here. I, jokingly, told him that he had described me to a tee. Sometime later, when Highlander moved to River City, he blogged that, my assertions to Nate were no exaggeration. I guess that whole thing loses something in the retelling. Likely, a lot. Bottom line, when I'm in serious house-frau overdrive, he calls me Martha Stewart.
Now, Nate is coming for a visit. His first time in River City and we're looking at about four days of checking the sights and sounds of this town and catching up. Highlander and I are looking forward to it.
My family, being "hill people" raised me with a certain protocol when it comes to company. Especially, overnight company. You want guests to feel welcome and homey, but you also want them to feel special...that you've gone to some measure of trouble because they're important to you. You don't want to go overboard to the point where guests feel they have to dress for dinner or that they can't feel comfortable while they're visiting, but you want them to see that you've been looking forward to their visit.
I need to go pick Highlander up from work in about an hour and a half, and Nate should be here by then. The apartment is respectably clean. I've got some chicken, smoked sausage, rice and veggies in the crockpot and a loaf of banana bread baking in the oven. I needed to wind down a little, so here I am. Unloading on you guys. Again.
Work has been excrutiating. Knowing that I'm taking three days off next week, I've been trying to get things in my little world in some kind of shape so that they can idle for a bit, or finalized, or handed off. But, yesterday morning, while I was working on making a list of outstanding stuff at Hell (I know I said I'd be done with this job in two weeks, two weeks ago. Leave me alone. It's one of those little lies I have to tell myself to be able to sleep nights.), one of my bosses came to visit me and inform me that our current temp receptionist was an idiot. Oh, like that was news. Ellen started two weeks ago and if you look up the word 'vapid' in the dictionary, she'll be staring back at you...with a kind of vacant, lobotomized stare. It would have to be, because that's the only expression she ever has.
She was touted, by her agency, as being very computer savvy and having extensive background in marketing. Excellent. One of the responsibilities of our receptionist is to prepare marketing proposals for various upcoming jobs. This consists of printing out prepared sales sheets on various architectural and construction projects that our firm has done in the past, lists of clients, design awards, key employee resumes, company histories, for both our firm and any consultants (engineers, usually) that will be working with us on the potential upcoming project. Generally, 4-6 copies of the entire submittal are required, and then each copy is bound. It really can be a very time-consuming job. Difficult, however, it's not.
We had two proposals going out today, both to the same client, but for two different projects. Six copies of each. My boss gave the information, and an outline, to Ellen ten days ago. (This after a fiasco two weeks ago that had three key employees pushing to the last minute before the proposal was due, because Ellen totally misjudged her time and would have totally missed the deadline. And, hey, someone with an extensive marketing background should be intimately familiar with deadlines...wouldn't you think?)
So, as I said, yesterday, he stopped back by my cubicle to beg for some help. I glanced around at the piles and made a mental note of everything I had left to do and the time in which I had to do it, and grimaced as I realized I'd be working some overtime. Likely a great deal of it. And, frankly, Martha Stewart had shit to do at home. You know. So, I left all of my stuff to the side and busted my ass DOING ELLEN'S GODDAM JOB most of yesterday. And got so much done that it should have taken her about two hours max to finish everything this morning. My boss was falling all over himself thanking me last night. Stammering in awe at what I'd gotten done. But, hey, I was seriously motivated.
When I got home last night I was totally wasted. I had planned to hit the laundry last night, but that was a lost cause. I did a few things around the house. Baked a cherry, raspberry, blueberry pie, prepped veggies for the crockpot and then went to bed totally surrendering to the sweet bliss of sleep.
This morning, I started the crockpot and did another couple small things. Highlander loaded the laundry into my car, so that I could head directly to the laundrymat (oh joy!) when I got finished at work. I checked into how the proposals were going when I got there and was told that everything was going fine. Great. Some time to work on some of my own stuff. So, I started digging through the piles madly. Calling contractors and clients. Moving things down the line.
A couple hours later, when I assumed things on the proposals should be finished, I checked in with Ellen again. Still nothing. Hadn't started binding them yet. ::sigh:: I so badly needed to get home and get things done. And I could just see that I was going to be stuck staying late and working on this crap. And I REALLY didn't want to. And whenever I tried to hurry her up, she'd give me that look. That far-away void look and I thought, more than once, that maybe if I smacked her in the side of the head it would jump-start her brain. When that thought started to get irresistible, I had to force myself to walk away.
I brought various staff members up to speed on items I had been working on for them, answered all of my company emails and voice-mails and organized things on my desk that I thought might be needed in my absence. Then, I went back to see where Ellen was with the proposals. It had been, after all, four hours. And, to give her credit, she'd done about 15 minutes worth of work in that four hours. I went and talked to my boss and told him that she had very little work left and that I had things to do at home and intended to take my vacation time. Both he and Ellen calmly assured me repeatedly, that they'd be fine. So, I only put in an extra half hour today. Much less than I'd thought I'd be doing. I suppose I should have been grateful.
It's just that leaving that, to do laundry and sweep floors and clean toilets wasn't quite the reward I had envisioned for the hard work I'd put in. But, hey, I'm done. Now I can enjoy the next few days virtually guilt-free and even have some fun! Highlander can be proud of his home. Everyone wins when Martha visits. Somehow I'm sure he'd disagree. I think Martha scares him a little. And to give credit where credits most assuredly due, he has done quite a bit around here, too. I couldn't have done it without him.
Whew, two very full days. Five days off. Yip Pee!
posted by SuperWife | 9:06 PM
1 Comments:
Damn, woman, you put me to shame.
I consider myself doing a good job if the laundry gets done and there's enough in the house to scrounge up a sandwich.
Have fun....
...But this "Martha" scares me. A former neighbor. Went through her entire second pregnancy as content as a cat in a sunbeam...every day she gardened, baked, cleaned the house...then gave birth to a 11-pound boy, naturally. The next day, I was walking past her house on the way into mine and she waved from the porch and said, smiling, "Come in and see the baby. I made pie."
I'm pretty sure she was an alien.
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