Six Word Saturday

did you survive Friday the 13th?

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Want to play along? All that's necessary to participate is to describe your life (or something) in a phrase using just six words. For more information, try clicking here. Feel free to explain or not explain. Add an image, a video, a song, nothing. I love seeing what everyone does with their entries.

Each week (probably on Sunday or Monday), I use random.org to select a bunch of entries to visit.  Or I visit everyone. Or even numbered entries. Or odd numbered entries. Or multiples of three. Depends on what's going on that week.  In addition, please visit the person ahead of you on the list (or visit everyone if you like!). That way everyone receives at least one visit!

If you play along in your blog, please add a link to the Mr. Linky. I appreciate a link back (shiny code below if you like!). Otherwise, you're welcome to leave your six words in this post as a comment.

Please be sure to link either to your main page or (preferably) directly to the 6WS post. Links to blogs that do not contain a 6WS entry will be removed (sorry, just the button in the sidebar doesn't count as participating).

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Sweat is gross, especially yours

I was recently ranting about praising the efforts of the "resolutioners" that swarm the gym each January. It's such a short-lived nuisance joy to see them join in droves and hog the equipment for a month or two.

My rant was primarily about my neckYEAST INFECTION (which I realize was more sweat-related and less gym-STD) and the way that the gym staff seems much more interested in collecting contracts and cash than actually orienting the resolutioners to gym etiquette like wiping down the machines after use.

That got me thinking. Sure, I almost always do my part and wipe down the machine after I use it. But do I really trust that the person before me did the same? How many times have I seen people hop off without taking the two minutes or less to wipe down the equipment with the provided sanitary wipes?

Plus, have you seen the movie Contagion? When I first saw it, I didn't want to touch anything or anyone. Ever. I didn't want to go out in public, I wanted rubber gloves and SARS masks and vats of liquid sanitizer to bathe in. Yikes...

I'd like to start a revolution. Rather than wiping down equipment AFTER we use it, because really, most people just don't seem to give a damn about anyone but themselves, we should wipe down equipment BEFORE we use it. And if you don't care about the sweat of the person before you, don't bother! If you do care about the sweat of the person before you, go ahead and wipe it off.

Science-y people - is there a reason that it's preferable to wipe off the sweat when it's fresh as opposed to after it's dried on? Are we really doing any good with those little wipes or are we just fooling ourselves? And, really, isn't there some better solution that could involve the gym personnel coming through regularly and spraying something on the equipment? Or maybe WE could spray something on the equipment?

Anyways, now I wipe down the equipment I use before AND after my workout. It takes a total of maybe 5 minutes extra. It's possible I look like a neurotic germaphobe to those around me, which I'm not (am I?) but whatever. I feel better about the whole deal, so it's totally worth it!

Finally, I Make My Husband Laugh

My husband, Joe, has been at the SXSW Interactive festival in Austin since last Friday. He'll get home really late tonight. Part of me is a bit jealous because originally we both planned to go. (insert long rant about Joe's working making it impossible to plan ahead so it was a last-minute trip and too expensive for us both to attend)

A couple of days ago, we had the following conversation:

Joe: I scored 2 free tix to JayZ!
me: I didn't know you were a fan
Joe: I'm not - but FREE!
me: what will you do with the 2nd ticket?
Joe: some people are selling them
me: oh? you gonna do that?
Joe: no, gave mine away
me: is she hot?
Joe: haha
me: I'd like to point out that that's not an answer
Joe: haha

It's funny how he reads things I've written that are supposed to be funny and never even smiles. But I ask a question like that and get all kinds of laughs!

Good thing I trust that guy.

Breaking From My Rut

I may have mentioned previously that my husband sometimes refers to me as "rut girl". That's because I love my ruts. Routine is comforting. For awhile, I couldn't break from routine even in the simplest of ways without coming completely unglued. Medication Therapy My amazing coping skills have made things a lot better but I'm still more often to make a choice to stay in the rut most of the time.

So yesterday, I ventured outside of my rut. I went to the library to meet up with complete strangers and write. When I arrived, it turns out the other faceless names from the internet were men. We barricaded ourselves in a tiny room with no windows and spent two hours barely speaking, just working on our respective projects. After typing up a couple thousand words, I then drove home.

To most of you, this is no big deal. To me? A big deal.

I left home without really needing to do so. I met two strangers, who happened to be men, without feeling at all anxious and without stuttering or stupidity. I was crammed in a tiny enclosed space for two hours without claustrophobia. And then I drove home after dark despite my night blindness.

Today, I'm grateful for progress. A few weeks ago, while Joe was out of town, I met a friend (really, she's more of his friend if you want to get technical) for dinner one evening. All of these things are outside my rut. I pushed myself to make the harder (for me) choice. And it went well.

I can't help but feel a little proud about that.

Now? I'm off to the bookstore. Look at me go!

Living With Me

Here's an exchange this morning between me and my amazingly patient husband, Joe.

me: can you pick-up the tix on the way home pls?
Joe: y
me: thanks!
(a long pause while Joe is busy doing his actual work)
Joe: yw
me: Also, I totally just made fire and didn't burn the house down!
(pause)
me: yw!
(another pause)
Joe: I really don't want to know.

In a related story, if you're wondering if your tweets are going through or if people are just ignoring you, you can tweet something like "is this thing on?" but that's rather dull. Instead, try tweeting "woohoo, nobody told me sewing involved fire!" because you're sure to get immediate responses to that.

Unless people are ignoring you.

P.S. I was just melting the ends of satin ribbon over a flame so they won't fray.
P.P.S No cats were harmed in the making of this post OR the fire.

Quick Update

Remember that time a co-worker was always smelling me because I smelled so "lovely"? It was awhile ago but I remember it like it was just yesterday.

Oh, wait...

I kid you not but today, he stuck his head into my office, said good morning, walked away, then CAME BACK:

Jared: Oh, I forgot! (activate super sniffer) Ahhh...

Seriously, people! It's starting to give me a complex. And if there's one thing I don't need in my life, it's another fricking complex.

I think next time I come into work, I'm going to roll around in Tonya and Rusty's litter box first. Or slather my body in raw onions.

Smelly Co-worker

Looks like an unintentional theme week is happening. Because this is only my second post this week and it's again about work so, umm, welcome to Crazy Co-Worker Week at ShowMyFace! I should have a button or something. Hang on...

runs off, Muppet-style

Give me a break, it's the best I could do on such short notice. And I don't have access to my fancy button files.

Anyways!

We have this guy that works a few days a week. Nice guy. Young guy. And a few weeks ago, he came to my office door, sniffing. He tells me he smelled something and had to know what it was and he's determined it's me. What's that lovely smell?

Now, I am relieved that if I'm going to be the source of ANY smell, that it be a "lovely" one. However, as someone very sensitive to strong odors, pleasant or not, I'm also very careful not to exude any. For example - I don't wear perfume. My favorite smell is "clean".

We eventually determined that the scent is from my hand lotion. Japanese Cherry Blossom from Bath and Bodyworks, in case you're interested. I chose it because it was such a light scent. We also determined that my co-worker has a super-sniffer.

Had this been a one time thing, I would not be blogging about it. But every day I'm in the office, sometimes multiple times in one day (because I reapply my hand lotion after washing my hands), he comes to my office to "smell" me. Like this morning:

co-worker: Morning Cate, how you doing?
me: Just fine, Jared. How are you?
co-worker: (after making a big show of inhaling through his nose) I'm doing great, now!

I know I tend to be a bit weirded out by attention but come on... Tell me that's not just strange!

P.S. Do I even have to say this? No, this post is not in anyway sponsored nor was I compensated for it. Except that I wrote it on company time so technically I suppose they compensated me as I wrote it, but not FOR writing it. And I don't work for Bath and Bodyworks. And I wouldn't say I endorsed my co-worker either, unless he is applying secretly for jobs that involve his sense of smell. In which case I will gladly recommend him.

San Francisco Here I Come!

Just a quick post today but I'm going to be brave and put myself out there. Social anxiety? Not for this medicated fearless wonder!

I'm going to be in San Francisco for a few days next week. If anyone reading happens to be in the area and up for meeting sometime Thursday, I'm going to have that entire day to myself because my husband is abandoning me geeking it up at some conference all day and eating fancy dinner. I'm thinking that meeting for breakfast, lunch, dinner, coffee, wine somewhere near my hotel so that you don't abduct me. I'll be staying near Union Square.

Likewise, if anyone has any great suggestions for places very nearby that a terrified girl wandering alone might find some good eats or drinks in a safe environment, let's hear it!

Friday, Napa better be on alert. Because I intend to taste ALL the wine!

Death by Carpet

As promised yesterday, I'm going to tell you today about how carpet replacement in my house has caused multiple panic attacks and now I think I'm going to die.

It's not that I'm emotionally attached to the carpets. I also don't have fears that they are going to kill me in my sleep. But the carpets are low-quality and have passed their expiration date. Also, Tonya has not been kind. So in case we decide to sell the house or have company over, we decided to have the offending floor covering replaced.

I was fine until the lady came last Wednesday to measure. As we walked room to room, she would point out the things the installation crew would be willing to move. This consists of the large furniture items. She also pointed out specifically things like bookcases that needed to be emptied, the closet in Joe's office that kinda attacked her as she opened the door, etc.

That's when panic started to set in. After she left, I messaged Joe, hoping my husband could talk me down before I spiraled out of control with freaking out:

me: Your office is going to be a nightmare!
Joe: There's a lot of stuff in there but it'll be okay.
me: The one good thing about the office is that the desk is on wheels so they can wheel that right out with the computer and stuff still on it.
Joe: It's too wide to fit through the door.
me: Excuse me?
Joe: I assembled it in the room. It's too wide to fit through the door.

That's when the anxiety quit knocking on my door and set up camp in my brain. How are we going to get all of this done before they install? How will we finish it when Joe's going away the weekend before they come? And OMG THE DESK DOESN'T FIT THROUGH THE DOOR!!!

But we made great progress over the weekend. We managed to clear the spare room, master bedroom, and living room of everything that can be moved ahead of time. He even made great progress in the office!

When we finally quit for the day on Saturday, collapsing around some take-out and beer, we talked about how much we had accomplished:

me: There's not that much left, is there?
Joe: Nope, almost done! And it's a good thing because I don't know how much more the bonus room (think family room over the garage) can take. I have to figure out where to move the server to in there to distribute the weight.
me: Huh?
Joe: The server weighs around 150 pounds. I'm trying to equally distribute the weight rather than load up just one side of the room.
me: Is that something to be concerned about?
Joe: (senses my preparation to jump off the ledge again) No, not at all. I'm sure it's fine.
me: Then why did you just mention it?
Joe: No idea. I've thought about it now and it's fine!

So now I'm terrified of going into our bonus room because I've convinced myself that any extra weight is going to collapse the entire room into the garage which will crush our cars and start a fire and we will all die. I won't even go in there to watch tv now until the carpet is installed, which won't be until the 30th.

And that's how carpet replacement causes me anxiety and makes me think we're all going to die.

P.S. Is this how normal people think? I'm pretty sure it's not.

How I Spent Mental Health Day

Since the universe decided to cooperate, I was able to take my Mental Heath Day (MHD) on Wednesday. And boy did I ever need it.

When I went online that morning, I mentioned to SomeMonkey that I had slept in (which was awesome) but now I needed to get to work because I had a lot to accomplish on my MHD.

The short version of the conversation is that she yelled at me for doing it wrong. "No lists on MHD!!!"

No, the problem isn't that I was doing it wrong, it's that she was understanding it wrong. MHD for me is very rarely about chilling and doing nothing. It's about catching up on things I haven't had time for, which in turn allows me to stop fretting. AKA, I accomplish things that were piling up, restoring a bit of mental health.

I colored my hair. Maybe it was paranoia but I was sensing this silvery thing going on near my temples (the ones on my head, not the ones in the backyard with the shrine to Alan Rickman). $5.99 and 20 minutes later, no more worrying about silvery hairs!

I did a lot of class assignments. I'm a week ahead of due dates for class #1 and made nice progress on class #2.

I conducted a feasibility study to assess whether or not I can complete the classwork necessary to finish my marketing certificate by the end of the year, while working full-time. The answer is yes - but it's going to take a whole lot of time and some support from the husband. Which is why I called it a feasibility study and wrote up my proposal as such - it's the perfect way to get buy-in from His Supreme Professional Geekiness.

I crossed a few other things off my list as well. What I refused to do was any kind of housework (other than cleaning up a pile of Tonya-puke that she had left at the bottom of the stairs and doing a few dishes). I also did not nap, lounge in front of the tv, or really do much leisure activity.

Still, it was a successful Mental Health Day. I feel more calm now about the things I need to do and my ability to complete them all. Thank you, universe, for cooperating.

Psycho

Remember how I was all freaked out that my gym was changing locations because the idea of change horrifies me?

Somehow I survived the first few visits. I changed into my gym clothes at work, drove to the gym, worked out, drove home, showered in the safety and privacy of my own bathroom.

This was fine for a couple of weeks until Joe and I went to the gym together on a Saturday morning. We were on a tight schedule trying to fit in workouts and still make my eye appointment so he suggested showering at the gym instead of taking time to come home.

Umm, excuse me? Get naked in the public shower? What is this, high school?

But my practical side won out so I went along with his brilliant idea. All was well at first. The locker room was actually empty so I didn't have to bear the shame of people looking at my nekkidness as I bundled in a hand-towel-they-pretend-is-a-shower-towel and tip-toed over to the shower.

The shower itself was fine. I would've preferred a locking stall door but it was plenty private with a shower curtain, changing area, another shower curtain, and then the shower itself. Plus, they provide soap and shampoo. Awesome.

Just as I was calming down at the ok-ness of this, the lights went off. As in pitch-black. I mean, it's a shower - there aren't windows in there. My mind immediately went to the shower scene from Psycho and every cliche horror movie scene since then where the killer is IN THE HOUSE, turns out the lights, and then ATTACKS the woman in the shower where she is naked and most vulnerable.

I quickly rinsed off in silence (because, you know, they wouldn't hear the water running), grabbed my towel, and slowly stepped out of the shower curtain. Immediately, the lights came back on.

Yeah, the lights were hooked to a motion sensor to save the gym electricity. I had noticed this in other rooms but what moron thought that was a good idea in the shower area? Of course the sensor can't see activity once you've left the main hall and moved into one of the shower stalls!

I wonder if that stupid motion sensor has freaked anyone else out or if I'm just special.

How to Do Neighborhood Recon

Our neighborhood has a Google Group that was created years back when we were fighting the Big Bad (Undisclosed) City over a nuisance nearby. We won that battle and the email group is now mostly used for people who've misplaced their cats.

However, over the weekend, this email came out:

We're planning on hosting a neighborhood 4th of July party in the culdysack [sic, also sick]. Please let us know if your family will attend.

Nice, a little neighborhood togetherness. Considering our subdivision completely ignores each other unless we're fighting The Man (or whispering about Angry Neighbor), this is probably a good idea. Because I totally couldn't pick any of my neighbors out of a line-up. I don't know these people. Sad, maybe. Or a testament to the times. Whatever, it's the truth.

But here's the awesome part. The responses:

• We will be out of the country from the 1st to the 10th and unable to attend
• We'll be at the beach that weekend
• I'll be around because I'm dogsitting for the Andersons next door while they're out of town
• I live alone and will be on assignment for work in Boston for the entire month of July. Maybe next time

What's truly brilliant about this is that there's no real verification process for being added to the list. Ask and your email will be added and access granted. There's no double-checking, no removing of people who move out.

So if you're a crafty crook, you just pose as a neighbor, get on the list, and invite everyone over. Then you wait for all of the people to respond with exactly when they'll be out of town and you can rip them off.

Cool.

P.S. Not that I'm paranoid or anything.
P.P.S. Our alarm system is on.