Monday.

Really, I don't think there is an uglier word for me, in my life right now, all things considered.  The disappointment that I had to return to work after the holiday- that started Saturday morning.  And this morning, in fact, I had to fight back tears before coming through the door to face Rod.

Today has been no exception for the funny stories.  Or ironic.  Or unjust.  Or... well, just plain senseless.
 
I like a lunch hour as much as the next person.  Primarily, I like to eat during said hour.  If I don't eat, well, I get grumpy.  There, I admitted it.  I get cranky if I don't eat.  And I get uncomfortable, tummy all rumbly and gurgly.  I don't think it's that difficult, when consulting someone else's calendar and modifying it, to make sure you aren't booking appointments back to back through a reasonable lunch time.  Now, by lunchtime, I mean simply say, 11 - 2. Somewhere in there, leave an hour free.  But time and time again, Jen will carefully leave me a time slot to eat, only to have Rod snag it up.  So, I went through and created a 12:30-1:30 repeating occurrence so nobody could book that hour.  Until December 2010.  Oh, the satisfaction I felt!  Knowing that one day Rod would find that and, I figured, completely flip his lid. On Wednesday, he found it, and, surprisingly, said it was a great idea.  I even offered to remove it if we could work something else out!  No, no, he said, he liked it!!  Today, apparently he found out it changes things in my "pending" tab.  Well, this is clearly unacceptable, even though clicking on the "date" button changes the sort so he can see what is really "pending."   So, after much confusion and  frustration and finagling, I had to remove the occurrence, and then put on the white board : KATIE LUNCH 12:30 - 1:30.  My favorite part of the conversation is when Rod said that if he couldn't manage to remember that, then it would be his fault if I got booked full on without a lunch.  Imagine that, Rod is owning a little responsibility!  (Trust me, I know he will book me during a lunch, and I know he will try to make it my fault, but for now, let me feel victorious.)

So I trotted over to dutifully put my lunch hour up on the white board.  And was reminded of what has been there for over a week now:

WEEKLY OFFICE TASKS:
GARBAGE.........KATIE (x)
VACUUMING.....JENNIFER (x)
BATHROOM......ROD (  )

So I asked.  Quite cheerfully.  "Hey, Rod, did you clean the bathroom yet?  I can check it off for you if you did!"  His reply was a quietly muttered "No, I'm still working on it."  Pause.  "Hey, how come I have to clean the bathroom anyway?"  So I reminded him of the conversation we had about a month ago.  We said Jen vacuums, I take out the trash, and you said you'd clean the bathroom.  In fact, I reminded him, "You are the one who started the conversation by saying you'd clean the bathroom!"  I was proud for remembering that tidbit!  He was gruff when he said "No, I didn't! I said I'd clean the toilet basin!  Not the floor!"  Well, since the floor is where his pee hits when it splashes in that bowl, there's no way I'm going to clean that floor.  Hell to the no.  I didn't say that.  Instead, I pointed out "For three weeks now, I've been taking care of taking out everyone else's garbage without a word of complaint! And Jen has vacuumed up our dirt!  The least you can do is the bathroom!  Three weeks Rod, I've taken out your garbage! And never, not once, not a single word of thanks!"  Of course, the silence that filled the room was deafening.  (No apology was forthcoming, either). 
 
The more I think about it, the more I think Rod is actually just a 4 year old, not wanting to do his chores, getting others to do them for him, and throwing tantrums when he doesn't get his way.  It all makes sense now, doesn't it?
 
A few minutes ago, Rod printed some checks. After taking them back to his desk, I heard him ripping them apart on the perforations. Frip, frip, frip went the tears. Then, suddenly, the awful sound of actual paper tearing.  This couldn't be good news, since I know he was prepping checks.  Sure enough.  "SHIT! GODDAMMIT!"  Then silence.  I could picture him, looking at his checks, now torn, wondering what to do next.  Almost like a child, I could picture his expression: Shock, anger, horror in looking at all that spilled milk...  Then, I heard the unmistakable sound of Scotch tape being pulled off a roll and ripped.  Two or three times.  So he must have had his checks stacked when the tearing went awry, and it tore not one, but three checks.  Nice one, Rod!  And now, he thinks Scotch taping together his checks will be acceptable to his bank when his creditors try to cash said torn checks. So professional!

Rod just took a call and told the person, whoever it was, that it was inappropriate to be calling him at work.  He said he was too busy, and then he said 2:30 would be a good time to call him.  At work.  Hmm.  I swear to you, not 30 seconds later, the phone rang again, and he began speakin to that person at length and in depth about their betting results from the long weekend.  I love, love the double standards that abound here.

That's about it for today.  Oh, here's a snapshot to keep you thinking, as it got me thinking:

Who on Earth thinks something like this is funny?

Eye Tee Girl