Someone unloaded the dishwasher today and did a really bad job putting corning ware casserole dishes in the cupboard. In fact, Someone knew as she stacked them rather haphazardly and closed the door with hope that all would be well that in fact, all wasn't going to be well. Someone pretty much crossed her fingers that the teetering, irresponsible pile of cook ware wouldn't go all downhill slidy and fall out of the cupboard and break.
Before Someone was even finished unloading the dishwasher, there was a sound. A downhill slidy sound. Followed by a bump into the cupboard door. Followed by a rather loud crash as the dishes hit the floor. And one shattered.
Someone was standing in the kitchen with bare feet thinking she should probably clean that up. Trying to fend off the urge to say "meh" and let someone else do it. Someone's kinda lazy. And sloppy. And lackadaisical.
Which is weird, because at work, that same Someone is known as not only industrious--always busy--but also as anal. Completely, totally, inexcusably, bugs-the-everloving-stuffing-out-of-everybody-else anal.
A week ago, Pharmacist Greg noticed me loading the printer near him--a task which I do every day, multiple times a day. Because I'm efficient. Or obsessive. Whatever. Greg asked, "So . . . do you do that on a time schedule? Do you say to yourself, 'It's 10:45 a.m., time to fill the printer.'?" [ummm, yeah--I'm not sure how to punctuate that . . . ]
The next day when I filled it, I looked at him and asked his permission. "It's not quite 10:45--is it okay if I fill it now?" We both laughed. At me.
Friday afternoon during the slow time I was doing what I normally do. I was tabulating all the items I needed to stock for the pharmacy. Garbage bags, pens, distilled water. As I was writing them down on a scrap of paper, Katrina asked me, "Making one of your little lists?"
Evidently, I'm well known for my "little lists."
When I make copies of refill slips there is an unused 1.5" margin of the paper that I slice off so the refill slips fit more neatly into their assigned baskets. If I've made 100 copies, that's 100 1.5 x 11.5" strips of paper. Seems wasteful to throw them away, so I slice them in thirds and put them in a bin near the cash register. They come in handy all the time! Handy for customers, handy for us. We all use them. Everybody appreciates them but nobody has ever thanked me for making them available. But when I use them to make my daily "little lists" it seems to be noticed. And chuckled over.
That's the work me. Always on time. Always busy. Always finding more efficient, tidy ways to organize and keep track of things. Always cleaning things up and dusting and arranging. Always.
But at home I stand in the kitchen and try to talk myself into cleaning up the glass shards on the floor and not walking away from them for someone else to worry about.
There are two of me. And we don't get along well with each other : )
Oh--and off the subject, but what do you call the surgery a man gets so he can't have any more children? A misterectomy. heh heh