Catch 22

When I went in to work Tuesday, January 22, I was surprised to see a little "vacation" sign by my name.  I tried to remember.  No, I was at work Friday and Monday really was a holiday.  Oh, well.  I moved the sign and marked myself in. As I hung up my jacket, I smiled at my next vacation request which I have pinned up next to my coat hook and a calendar.  (Friday and Monday in March to go up to the Life of Christ Celebration in Vancouver and visit with my daughter Sariah and family.

Soon my supervisor came by my cube, stopped, did a double take and said, "I'm surprised to see you!  You asked for today off."
     "No, I asked for MARCH 22."
     "No, you asked for February 22.  Come look."
     "But it's January" I said to her back as I followed her to her cube.  Where she pulled out my request which said, Friday, March 22 and Monday, March 25.
    "oh.  Well, I'm glad you are here today.  I want to talk to you."  She then gave me a dressing down on a mistake I had made which had irritated a big wig.
     (We got Mr. Big Wig taken care of and he and I were on decent speaking terms that morning.)

What a relief!

Yesterday noonish as I went to pick up a bit after a morning of reviewing my Sunday School preparations while eating breakfast and listening to President Uchtdorf's CES fireside broadcast, I tipped over a glass of water and got Sophie!  President Uchtdorf kept talking but Joseph went into save-the-computer mode.  Computer off and unplugged, battery removed, everything dried that could be dried. Computer left open to let her innards dry.  

Last evening we checked Sophie.  Bad news.  The keyboard was acting up, some keys striking double.  oh oh.  We undid everything and let her air some more.

What a relief!  Sophie is working this morning!  At least, so far so good!

Shift The Blame

It's Blame Someone Else Day which reminds me of the time a group of gal friends were gathered at the beach.  One of them lamented that she had been in charge of her avid gardener daughter's garden while she was away for eighteen months and she feared her daughter would be displeased and disappointed on her return. 

Friends told her to transfer responsibility for the garden to her other daughter. 

"Oh!" said the mother, "She will not do any better! The garden will die." 

"The purpose is not to save the garden." came the reply.  "The idea is to shift the blame."