When The Big Cheese is Away the Mice with Play...

The Big Cheese is out of the office all this week. Right now he's visiting a client with Mole and then he's going to a conference. Incidentally, The Big Cheese is going to a conference with The Man. (The Man is my previous employer at the place with three letters.) I'm wondering how that whole thing is going to go down...

Because The Big Cheese, Mole and The Godfather are out of the office, we did not have our usual Monday Morning Meeting. I knew that the meeting was canceled, but I was unsure when to arrive. I'm supposed to be there at 8:00 on Mondays (9:00 every other day), but since there was no meeting I was shooting for an 8:30 arrival. Traffic was either in my favor (or not) because I arrived at 8:15 and found the door unlocked because R was already there. (R is the one whose husband has cancer--we're just going to call her R.) Since I have minimal things to do, I spent the first 45 minutes of my day reading about Libya. Mr. X did not arrive until 9:45. I am becoming something like the office attendance police.

While I was sitting at my desk this morning I was thinking about how much I hate my desk chair. I really hate it. It is weird and tiny and has this cushion on the seat that tips you forward, so I feel like I'm always at risk of falling out of my chair and sliding onto the floor. Everyone else in the office seems to have nice chairs and I'm feeling like I got the shaft. How do you think it would go over if I brought in my own chair from home?

So, Guy was the big news at work today. As I've said before, the window in my triangle overlooks the door to the office building and I saw Guy come in this morning. He was wearing a polo shirt with black dress pants and his pointy toed shoes--this sounds like a normal outfit except for the fact that one leg of his pants was rolled up to the knee. I thought that maybe he had ridden his bike to work (because we are having very nice weather for March). I always think it looks dumb, but you see some bike riding people roll up their pants like that. I wondered why he hadn't rolled his pant leg down before coming into the office. All was reviled when he came over to my side of the office to toast his morning everything bagel and I saw the GIANT, OOZING scrape on his leg that went from the top of his (black dress) socks to his knee. Because he is a boy, he was very proud of his injury, so he went into Mr. X's office to show it to him. (As a side note, Guy, Mr. X and another guy in the office whom I haven't named yet all grew up together in the same small town.) Guy injured himself yesterday afternoon playing flag football. (Silly me, I thought the point of playing flag football was that you don't get injured.) Guy had made some spectacular dive in the end zone, which resulted in his scrape. I don't have the quote exactly right, but when Mr. X asked him about it Guy said something like this: "I just play with so much heart--I don't know what I'm doing because I have so much heart." Unfortunately, I don't know him well enough to know if he was being serious or not, so I will just make fun of him in the meantime. Apparently, Guy and I are good enough friends now that he felt the need to tell me that his leg oozed all over his sheets while he was sleeping. I wanted to go and buy him some gauze pads after that.

Speaking of making fun...he must have gotten tired of everyone making fun of his rolled up pant leg (which looked kind of like the old man look with the black dress socks and dress shoe summer shorts ensemble, or something that my father-in-law wears on a regular basis, but with sandals) that after lunch he came back wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt.