Absence and Almond Cans
Dear Blogreaders/Fans of the Mundane:
I've been absent from my blog for sometime, as I've been consumed with work responsibilities. Those responsibilities have been profoundly mundane: I have had to arrange travel for visiting job candidates, make sure said candidates eat, etc. All of these mundane tasks have been extremely confusing and stressful.
I have three empty almond cans in my office. Two are stacked awkwardly. I should recycle them (though where on campus I should drop them off is unclear -- I guess in the soda can recycling recepticles).
But the almond cans look like they should be used for something -- storing paper clips or binder clips, or perhaps pipe tobacco (I can't smoke in my office, and I don't really smoke anyway, though I have some pipes and tobacco). I suspect that these cans will sit on my desk for many years along with the dirty coffee cups and old papers.
I've been absent from my blog for sometime, as I've been consumed with work responsibilities. Those responsibilities have been profoundly mundane: I have had to arrange travel for visiting job candidates, make sure said candidates eat, etc. All of these mundane tasks have been extremely confusing and stressful.
I have three empty almond cans in my office. Two are stacked awkwardly. I should recycle them (though where on campus I should drop them off is unclear -- I guess in the soda can recycling recepticles).
But the almond cans look like they should be used for something -- storing paper clips or binder clips, or perhaps pipe tobacco (I can't smoke in my office, and I don't really smoke anyway, though I have some pipes and tobacco). I suspect that these cans will sit on my desk for many years along with the dirty coffee cups and old papers.
6 Comments:
Wonderfully mundane post, honey!
:-)
Well, I am the wrong person to be reading this post, because I can't throw ANYTHING away that could be remotely useful. It makes me feel guilty. If I ever do succeed in throwing something away (or recycling it), I end up stricken with guilt and horror weeks later when it occurs to me that I COULD have used it.
But I've seen your office, and with all due affection, I recommend that you recycle the almond cans. I also recommend that you stop smoking a pipe.
Love, Me
What kind of almonds?
The problem of the almond cans is anything but mundane! This is an age-old problem and haunts many a sharp mind. Establishing order and serenity means dealing with all the almond cans of life; not an easy task. Today, in fact, it was my first priority to deal with my own personal "almond cans". They are stacks around my comfy chair that are making it impossible for me to get in and out of the chair gracefully and to put my feet on the foot stool. Instead, I did everything BUT take care of the problem. It will be tomorrow's top priority, but the longer this goes on the more unhappy I will be. Almond cans: not a small matter.
1. I commend your use of the word "soda" as opposed to "pop."
2. You can make two of the cans into kiddie telephone game ear/mouthpieces. You know, drill a tiny hole in each, tie a string around a toothpick, thread the string through the hole, and connect it the same way to the other can. Then you and an office mate have have clandestine conversations with each other and no one else will be able to hear what you're saying.
3. You can alarm new hires by handing them an empty almond can and asking them for a urine sample. Good way to test their sense of humor. The possibilities are endless.
4. Or you could just recycle them.
Thank you for giving me a good laugh on this sad and rainy day, Deb... I *love* the idea of Mark playing tin-can-phones around the office. The urine sample for the job search candidates is nothing short of inspired. If ever you get a candidate that you know you don't want to hire, please do that immediately.
Deb,
What other containers might one use for urine samples -- shoes, coffee cans, thimbles, Franklin Mint porcelain saucers?
I'm delerious, so I'm not sure about my line of questioning.
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