ABOUT TURN!

Being a creature of habit certainly has its advantages.  Of course, my choices sometimes change, but the habit remains the same.  At the moment, I enjoy barbecue on a Sunday night, and we make the trip to collect it at sometime, (rarely the same time,) during the afternoon or evening, come home and watch a few episodes of whatever series I have decided is the Sunday night favourite. Yes, I still receive a netflix disc!  It arrives sometime during the week, and we (and I say 'We' as in the royal 'we', as Dana goes with the flow) save it until we are sitting comfortably, with our barbeque, and watch the next batch.  Of course, in a couple of months, we may decide that barbeque is no longer the food of choice, I will make sandwiches, or burgers, or something I have not yet thought up, and we will play scrabble!  The fact of the matter is that it will probably become a 'habit'.   However, I digress.  The current 'habit' is to get barbeque and watch our preferred series.  "Why does it have advantages?", I hear those who have bothered to read thus far say!  I shall expound!  We travelled to the barbeqcue shop on Sunday, and walked to the counter.  I ordered my meat.  "You must be very special!" said the man behind the counter.  I smiled, and replied, "I am?" (Notice the question mark, rather than an exclamation mark, as still have some humility!)  "Yes, you are very special" he repeated.  I smiled again and shrugged my shoulders.  "We ran out of cobbler an hour ago!" he said.  I was still confused as to why this made me special.  "Okay, so I can't have cobbler.  That's a shame." I said, smiling, and still wondering.  "No. You can."  By now I am beginning to wonder if I was meant to say or do something here, because nothing was making much sense.  I know they don't always understand me, but I have always managed to make sense of what they are saying to me, until now!  "You have just cooked up a new batch".  "No!"  Hmm.  I stood and waited.  "We ran out, completely!"  Hmm.  "...And he said", the server pointed to the man behind the counter, "We are out, but when she comes in, you tell her we have hers."  Ah ha!  Now I know!  Yes I did feel special.  "You must be special", he repeated.  I waved to the man behind the servers section and thanked him profusely.  "You are our favourite", said the man who cuts the meat.  Now I was blushing.  Much as it was a nice experience, it was a little embarrassing. I was still saying thank you as we reached the till.  At the moment, I am still enjoying the barbecue.  What happens when I start to make sandwiches?  Will I feel guilty?  It would appear that I have become somewhat of a novelty at the restaurant.  I have a lovely accent, and use words like 'please' and 'thank you', rather than 'sir' and 'ma'am', and yet I can discuss how badly the Dallas Cowboys are doing this season, and how Kent State, despite never being a contender for the National Championship, have scored more points this season than the number one Alabama!  To them, I appear to 'have it all'.  I let the embarrassment slide, and reveled in the entertainment!

I had enjoyed an afternoon reading in the sunshine, by the pool, and then attempting to put together a 'frame' for storage.  The temperature was perfect for both.  Once the sun had gone off the patio, it was cool enough to start the physical aspect of the afternoon.  The 'frame' came with everything I needed, except a first aid kit!  Once I realised that I had put all the adjoining pieces on upside down, I had to take them off, and that is when I cut myself.  The instructions said it was a job for two people. I didn't realise that the 'other' person was needed to get to the 'band-aid'.  

After the amusement of Sunday, Monday seemed like it might be less than exciting.  We were heading into a five day week of work.  The smell inside the building was awful, as the lacquer used to reseal the tiles was very potent.  I went into the 'restroom'.  Bang!  That was the sound I heard when I flushed the toilet.  Unsure as to what had happened, I walked out of the stall to see if anything had fallen.  Nothing appeared to be out of place but the toilet did not stop flushing. I went into the second stall and flushed it.  It stopped as normal, but the first one was still swirling.  There was no visible sign of a 'cut off' valve, so I had to send a message to our management agency.  "I've busted the bog again", I said as I walked back into my office.  I headed the email, "Oh no!" and told my point person what had happened.  She promised to have a maintenance crew there as soon as possible.  The toilet continued to flush.  I sent another email 'extolling the virtues' of the young men who had been working on the tiles.  I wanted her to know that they were very polite and courteous, accommodating the office residents where possible, and she was extremely delighted.  She pointed out that it is hard to find contractors who not only do a good job, but who are congenial!  The toilet continued to flush!

I had to make a trip outside around midday.  I could barely keep my head up, and felt rather sick.  I was also rather inebriated.  The air outside was sticky and it was of no relief.  Out of the frying pan into the fire!  Once back inside the office, I turned on the fan, full blast, to try and rid my room of some of the fumes.  The toilet continued to flush!

It was about 'quitting time' when the plumbers finally made it to our building.  Goodness knows how many gallons of water were wasted but at least they stopped the whirlpool!  

Once again the temperatures were spring like on Tuesday, and one of the nice young men who was working on the tiles opened the front door to let in some air. I was most grateful.  "I love your accent," he said, quite shyly, and then continued, "and your boots."  Well, that's a combination I do not often get.  "You always look so....gorgeous."  I thanked him and was not sure who was more embarrassed.  I managed to walk back inside my office, before starting to giggle.  I was almost old enough to be his grandma!  Perhaps I would not pass this on to the management agency!

The mailman left my post outside the door.  The parcel contained the bidet that had been won just before Christmas.  Samantha was very excited as she had 'claimed' it as soon as I received the email alerting me to my success!  I had received an email suggesting I visit their social media sites, and encouraging me to 'post' some of my 'cr*p' stories.  It all seemed a little inane to me.  I enjoy a good giggle, and occasionally will act like the twelve year old that is within, but this seemed to be a little beyond even me!  The instruction booklet was quite an eye opener.  "Once you have done your 'doodoo', because everyone does.....".  The rest went downhill, or down the pan, as they would have no doubt said, although perhaps more graphic!  It was as if the staff had engaged their seven year olds, who had just learned some 'naughty' words, and were whispering in them in a corner, to come out and express their real thoughts, and put them down on paper!  It was bizarre!  

The smell of the lacquer subsided over the next couple of days, but the painters had come in on Wednesday evening, or early Thursday morning.  The aroma was not too distasteful, but as the first odour had not quite gone, it still caused a little light headedness.  However, I rather liked the light blue colour that had been used.  "Blue and brown.  Very sixties", I commented on my arrival.  "It's white!" said Samantha and Grant.  We argued.  I was convinced it was blue.  I put a piece of white card up against the wall.  The wall was not white.  I pulled Jerry into the mix.  As I walked out of the office, our neighbours were exiting for lunch.  They offered their opinion.  "Maybe a blue hue", said one.  "I think it's more grey", said another. I was still not convinced!  Time to email the management agency again! I started by letting Laura know that this was not an emergency. The toilets were fine!  However, we were having somewhat of a dispute.  Much as I loved the sixties colours of blue and brown, (giving away my age, perhaps,) we could not agree on what colour was used on the walls.  I told her of our differences.  She responded quickly.  "It's meant to be dark grey!"  Hmm.  I could not see how the walls would look good in dark grey, but considered that perhaps the light blue (and I was not budging from blue) was an undercoat.  It was not!

I walked in Friday morning, and saw what she meant by 'dark grey'.  They had painted the door trims with the darker shade. It was not bad, but it needed a bit of touching up.  It was fresh and bright, and that was good. I thought about emailing Laura, but decided I would wait and see how it looked with all the base strip, etc., replaced.  I was not completely averse to the colouring, but a bit disappointed, as I thought the brown trim looked rather good.  However, it was not my house!

Around mid morning I saw two fellow 'officees' and popped my head around their front door to say "Hello", and "Happy New Year".  I was greeted with seasonal felicitations and then, "I was going to come and see you.  The corridors look disgusting.  They are awful.  I have emailed management and told them so".  I smiled!  I think when my name is given out by the delivery men, and postmen, as the person who 'knows all', (and I don't know how I got that title, other than I am a bit nosey and do know most about what is going on,) I am assumed to be a person to whom to go to complain.  I have made it clear that I am a 'renter' just like everyone else!    

The end of the day came, and we went home.  I craved fish tacos.  We headed out to our usual place, and as I reached the counter, my tacos were almost cooked!  The regular tortilla maker was on point!  "Welcome back.  We missed you!" I said, in earnest.  I had missed him!  The temp had not been as adept!  Of course, being an expert myself, having had sixteen years of sampling, I felt qualified to comment. She was very nice, willing and no doubt experienced, but tortillas should be round.  Perhaps it was a 'seasonal' thing.  She managed to make them pear shaped, which in rotrospect could have been 'bell' shaped.  Others were oddly pointed, which could have been 'stars', but I doubted it, as the idea of the tortilla is to hold the ingredients to make them into tacos!  The temp's creations did little to hold anything together.  They still tasted good, but were not easy to eat!  As I say, I have become an expert!  The regular guy was pleased to be told he was missed, and we exchanged pleasantries before my perfectly round, perfectly cooked tortillas were passed on to the next person, who knew exactly what I wanted.  When I enter my new 'habit' stage, I wonder if they will miss me!

We shopped on Saturday.  I did not encounter any boxing gloves, inside or out of the box, this week!  When I returned home, I completed the building of the 'frame' after removing several items from my shed.  "Is Dana not helping?" asked one of my neighbours. I told her that I preferred to do it alone.  Much as I love and admire my husband, I did not have time to debate the best way to fit everything in, and draw up a plan!  As I was putting everything back, Dana appeared.  "Shouldn't you have .....".  I smiled!

My plans for Sunday were thwarted.  It was raining first thing, and I knew it would be too cold to sit by the pool, but I had planned to sort out some more things in the shed.  I was in the mood for throwing away unwanted items, and as everyone who knows me knows, when I get into that mood, it needs to be taken advantage of!  However, by eleven, it had started to snow.  Yes, snow!  Samantha had been rather upset, as the weatherman had promised several hours of white flakes, but then decided, 'perhaps not'.  "It's rude", she messaged.  "They shouldn't get everyone's hopes up!"  It made me laugh.  Dana hates snow!  "That's why I live in Austin," he would say when asked about his hatred of cold weather.  However, by midday, everything was white, and completely covered.  My snow angel that had been made earlier was gone, and I went to make another.  Several snowmen sat on the chairs by the pool, and it was only when I met another family did I realise why more had not been made.   The young daughter of said family was turning ten tomorrow, and had never seen snow.  They did not know how to make snowmen.  Lessons commenced!

As things stand at the moment, my 'habit' may have to change tonight.  I cannot see my husband driving in the white stuff, as it is 'dangerous'.  Unless you have a truck, I guess it can be a bit scarey!  Next week looks like it will be warm again, but at the moment we are 'snowed in'.  

I am not sure as what to do with my afternoon, as it is running into evening.  The time I usually spend typing a post was taken up with running up and down the road!  I still don't think I am childish enough to write a booklet on how to use a bidet, but I am still a big kid when it comes to snow.  Will I get my cobbler?  All that and more in ............ another story!