The Neighbor's Yard
Only seventy-one new messages in my e-mail today when I got home. That
is somewhat unusual; I normally have about three times that number with
all the lists I'm on.
One mail in particular stood out, though, because the subject of it
was Nutella. Liz of
Lifestyles dropped me a note and told me to try it on toast. She
promised that it would NOT be as gross as it sounded . .and she was right!
I love it!
I'm thinking we might have Nutella for dinner tonight.
¤ ¤ ¤
I called the department store person today. As I suspected, it was
an offer -- a contingency offer. That means they want me to work there
providing that everything turns out the way they want with the background
investigation and the drug pre-screening test.
Of course, I accepted it. It is back on the mainframe, so I'll probably
see a good deal of work at the end of the year when the 'overlooked'
Y2K issues rear their ugly heads. Um . .that is if I pass the background
check -- I do have some concerns about my wild misspent youth catching
up with me.
They run a tight shop and a professional shop. Professional means
that I need to get out all my suits and see if they can be altered to
fit my new, jumbo sized body or if I need to visit Omar to get some
new ones.
¤ ¤ ¤
My neighbor took his fence down. He had a rickety, falling down six
foot wood fence around the backyard. When I got home today, I noticed
his fence (with my morning glories all entwined in it) at the curb
ready for the city pickup. I couldn't wait to go out back to see what
his yard looked like.
It is the typical household with kids backyard -- swing set, a kid
sized jeep and a blow up pool. His is as barren of trees, lawn
and gardens as ours was when Tom got this house. It is showing
signs of loving attention, though.
Their pool is the biggest blow up pool I've ever seen, certainly
large enough for several adults to paddle around in. I'm wondering
if I can figure out a way to get invited over to cool off in the
afternoons.
¤ ¤ ¤
I spent the last few days at WORK coaching the technicians. Coaching
is a fancy way of saying that I'm spying on them. I won't bore you
with the technical stupidity of many of these experts, but I
came home and started off on another ranting session. Poor Tom.
Many of the trainees are stupid, not ignorant, stupid -- but you
expect that with new hires, I guess. But the trainers are also
barely past neanderthal. Even when I go outside to smoke,
the conversation is what I would expect to hear on a playground.
What really, REALLY bothers me is that nearly everyone considers
themselves an expert on things they know nothing about.
It is so good to come home and be able to have a conversation with
an intelligent lifeform. Even Cricket displays good listening skills.
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