Thursday, April 23, 2009

Met a man on a train near Santa Fe

The answer to the question that I know has been on everyone's mind is, no. I am not going to the secretary's luncheon today. Mainly because I'm not a secretary. Even if I was have no desire to sit at a hen party explaining for the umpteenth time that I don't eat "adult" food (I really don't care how divine that broccoli salad might be) or feign appreciation of my goodie bag from Mary Kay. Still, the EPJ asked if I was going because "she'd let me go if I wanted to." I concentrated real hard and asked her if she could read my mind.

As for the EPJ, it will be with some interest to some to know that the Rancho Relaxo pool/spa is finally complete. They installed the salad bar last week and I believe the whole shooting match is officially open for bidness. Which is not to say it's being used; that would be ridiculous. I'm pretty sure the waters have yet to be disturbed. It looks nice though. So should the urge to hop in for a few laps strike during lunch, she can now give in. I'm pretty sure that was the only reason for building the thing anyway. Oh yeah, Rancho Relaxo also has fountains that shoot water in pretty patriotic colors. I've no idea if the red, white and blue was extra or if the builders threw that in because they love the USA. I consider this another victory in the war on terror.

My pinkeye or allergy or whatever was previously figured has turned out to be a staph infection. Of my eye. In a touching display of empathy, Marisol told me she'd never heard of getting one in the eye. My family has a knack for the unique. Lucky us. So now I'm dropping eye drops every waking hour (literally) until I go back to the doctor tomorrow.

My coworkers, pillars of support all, apparently believe a staph infection to be a death sentence. "Oh, golly." "I'm so sorry." "That's serious. Are you all right with it?" "Shouldn't you stay away from us?" I'm getting by thanks; I managed to talk myself down from the roof of my doctor's one story office.

Regarding this death sentence, I'm pretty sure it's not since I figure the doctor would have at least closed the door for such a prognosis. But he only went to med school and has practiced for decades; my co-workers do watch Oprah and read women's magazines so I guess that counts for something. You go, girl.

Update: One of the groundskeepers managed to discover water on the courthouse property with his trusty lawnmower. Pretty sure he didn't mean to, but oh what a majestic gusher he's created.

45 minutes later that sucker is still going. It seems as if no one can quite figure out where the off button is. I've volunteered the EPJ services to go sit on it until a better solution can be discovered.

3 comments:

Bonnie said...

In reference to the pics:
You can now build yer own Little Reata!

Chris <>< said...

Staph?? Geez. You do it right like Dairy Queen.

Shall I phone the Warrenton Water Czar?

Jeremy said...

Yes, my family is awesome.

No, they finally got it turned off after about an hour. That or the city gave out of water. Probably the latter. You'll have to ask the Czar how exactly a lawnmower, professional grade or not, can destroy an inground pipe covered with an iron plate. Made in USA, no doubt.