Happy birthday Francis!

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So this morning I walk groggily into the kitchen here at work to fix myself a cup of tea. I mechanically put the requisite two packets of sugar, one teabag and hot water into a paper cup, and set the brewing concoction aside on the countertop as I head to the refrigerator to get some milk. I reach methodically for the handle of the refrigerator door and gasp silently as my hand closes around the empty space where just yesterday the handle was located. In the back of my mind, I know something is amiss, but it is too early and I am not sufficiently awake to notice that someone has switched the refrigerator door around. Switched the refrigerator door around? I blink twice and glance behind me to see if anyone has seen me swipe at the air. Yes, someone switched the refrigerator door around so that it now opens from the right side instead of the left. It's too early for this, I think to myself, and I pour the milk into my tea.

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Yay! Hunny's back from his ten-day ski trip/work conference in Salt Lake City. Just picked him up at the airport and and had a quick breakfast on the way to work. Let's see if we can both stay awake for the rest of the day...

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The cupcake sits precariously atop a pile of papers on my desk, staring up at me. I am delicious. Really. Try me.

The intern bought some cupcakes from Buttercup Bakery today, and offered one to me as I sat here in my office trying to concentrate. Foolishly, I peered into the white cardboard box. Twelve voices piped up at me. Pick me, pick me. I am surely more delicious than he! I knew I shouldn't have even looked into the box. I should have dismissed the offer with a slight but kind wave of the hand. No cupcakes for me, but thank you so much for your offer, I should have said. But instead I looked in. Foolish me. I knew I was too weak to resist a Buttercup cupcake. When the intern left my office, she was one cake short of a dozen, and my prized possession sat where it has been sitting for the past few hours, atop the resume of a Monday interviewee.

He has been staring at me for the past five hours, this little cupcake. He's been watching me type away at my computer, answer phone calls, field questions. He's been using his seductive little cupcake voice, trying to entice me to try him.

My defenses are bombarded. My resolve is weakening. Let's see how much longer I can hold out.

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I just got back home from a two-day work-related trip to Philadelphia and Wilmington, and boy am I tired. I think my exhaustion has something to do with the long hours this week and the unusual swings in the weather. Maybe some mysterious illness is going around? That would make me feel better than thinking I'm tired for no reason whatsoever. At least I know it's not just me: most everyone I've spoken to looks pale and is also exhausted, fatigued and cranky. That's one of the benefits of being around people: you know it's not just you that's going crazy; it's everyone. And sorry, Marcel, it doesn't seem as though I'll be able to hold up my end of the deal and get to the gym this week. Uh, maybe next week?

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Everyone head over to Chris and Max's Blogger CD Swap: Round 1. And let's see how much variability there is in the mixes.

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I overslept today and got in to work at 10am. Probably a vestigial hangover from too many cosmos and drunken karaoke at Pegasus Saturday night with Victor and Chris. Don't you hate it when you oversleep so much that you feel tired from sleeping? And then you're so tired from oversleeping that when you wake up you have to take a nap from the exercise of just opening your eyes? Okay, I think I've just lost everyone.

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I had my first decade-changeover crisis today. The guys at the office goaded me into signing up for something, and on the release form there was a line asking how old I was going to be on the day of the event. It was with a feeling of great unease that I avoided the answer until I reached the end of the form. I looked at the blank line over and over again, the sense of unease growing into a somewhat uncomfortable "Do I have to answer the question? I think I need to use the bathroom now" feeling as I realized that my next birthday is two and a half months away. It's not that I'm nervous about turning another year older. It's not that I'm feeling insecure about my future or my life. It's actually quite the contrary: that I'm not feeling anxious as my friends had all predicted. At least not yet. I thought about it for a while and then confidently put my soon-to-be age on the dotted line. I filled in "30."

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It's a beautiful day in Manhattan today. So beautiful, in fact, that my group did something we haven't done in quite a while: we ate our lunch outdoors. The very nature of our work makes it difficult for my group to be out all at the same time, but today I declared an exception. I called and had someone cover for us, and we strolled out into the glorious sunshine and down to the street vendor on 53rd Street where we paid $5 for chicken tikka masala, basmati rice and a small salad with pickled mango (extra hot peppers on the side for me, please). We frequent this food cart quite often, actually, my Bulgarian colleague having grown quite fond of their fare, and the guys who run the cart know us and our orders quite well. We made a quick stop at the fruit cart next door and ordered various fruit salads and fruit shakes, and then basked in the sunshine as we ate, listening to the frenetic buzz of the city as it passed us by. Spring seems definitely upon us.

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As one of my colleagues pointed out, yesterday marked my fifth-year anniversary here at work. I'm just waiting now for the CEO to stop by with my gold Rolex watch of appreciation. Any minute now...

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It's funny how some things can put you in a nostalgic mood. We just came back from Star-Spangled Banter, this year's performace of the Mask and Wig Club. The Mask and Wig Club is an all-male musical comedy troupe out of my alma mater, and is famous for their irreverant and hilarious shows, most of which is done with its undergraduate cast members dressed in drag. The show itself was pretty good, and all the troupe members were having an obviously fantastic time on stage, singing and dancing their hearts out. Greg verbalized it so well when he turned to me during the show, smiled and said, "Remember when we were in college?" I guess we're all getting just a bit older every day.

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So I went to the doctor today to have him take a look at my knee. The receptionist greeted me with a smile.

"You're Patrick?" she asked.

"Yep."

"The doctor will be with you shortly. How's your knee doing today?" I guess she was the one who took my call yesterday to make an appointment.

"Not too good. That's why I'm here," I grinned.

"Oh. Are you putting anything on it?"

"Just my weight."

She laughed and waved me away. "Go have a seat. I'll call you when he's ready."

I sat for a few minutes until I was called into one of the rooms. Shortly afterwards, the doctor entered the room.

"What seems to be the problem, Patrick?" he asked. I explained to him how I wrenched my knee, gesticulating wildly and trying to garner from him as much sympathy as I possibly could. "Does this hurt?" he asked as he began to flex, twist and pretzel-ize my leg. He stopped and waited for the greenish-blue colour to drain from my face. "I guess it did, huh? We'll send you in for an x-ray and get you a knee brace." He looked at my records. "Hmm... It seems here that you still haven't made an appointment to get your hepatitis B shot."

"Uh, no, I guess I'll make the appointment later," I said.

"Well, I have some vaccines in stock here right now. Wanna get shot now?" I nodded and a few minutes later got injected in my left arm. "How about hep A? I have some in stock, too. Want it?"

I felt like I was being sold cheap parts in a used automobile store. "Sure, why not?" And he injected my right arm.

We chatted for a while as I collected my belongings. "The girl outside will write you up and tell you where to go for your x-ray," he said.

I made my way back to the lobby, nursing my sore arms and limping. The receptionist smiled. "How'd it go?" she asked.

"Not too bad."

She booked me for a follow-up shot for both hepatitis vaccines and gave me directions to the x-ray facility. "See you in a week or so, Patrick. Oh, and keep that weight off that knee." She laughed and waved at me as I left for the elevator.

This reminds me: the stern lady with dark-rimmed glasses still owes me a varicella shot. I think I'll wait until my arms heal a bit.

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The past few days, at work:

I've made an appointment to see the doctor tomorrow.

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Mmm... Girl Scout cookies. Several weeks ago, one of the guys in the office took orders for his daughter's Girl Scout cookie sale, and most everyone in the department ordered a few boxes. Yesterday, he came into the office with dozens of cartons of cookies, and spent the day distributing them to all who ordered. Now I have a box of Samoas and two boxes of Thin Mints on my desk. And man, they're good. Of course, everyone else has a few boxes of cookies on their desk, too. So people spend their time visiting each other's desks and pigging out happily on cookies. Man, I have to get back to the gym some day. I hate it when all my clothes magically and simultaneously shrink at the waistline. Must be the detergent I'm using. Umm, yeah, that's it...

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Yesterday, at Mount Snow:

See what I have to put up with?

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No more seven-hour meetings. Please. I got pulled into this meeting late last night and had to endure seven excruciating hours today in a conference room full of people. And of course I had to sit next to the obligatory sick guy, so I'm probably going to get sick now. All this on the second day of unpacking into my new office and sorting through eight hundred e-mails I got while I was out last week. Sheesh... At least the view from my office is nice.

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