Eighth notes with one hand and triplets with the other…
And so tomorrow (i.e., today) was (is) a better day. So far. It ain’t over yet even though we are winding down here in the Landfill Chitchen. Some of the highlights…
Breakfast! With an old breakfast buddy that I haven’t seen since she moved to Arizona two years ago. Guess what? She has moved back! We used to meet weekly on Wednesdays and had a rotating schedule of three restaurants: The Village Kitchen, The Broken Egg, and the Coney Island out on Jackson Road. We used to take turns picking up the check. It could be a challenge even for me to remember which restaurant and who was paying which week. Two people and three restaurants.
Waitresses in all three of those places recognized us as regulars. I walked to the Village Kitchen to meet my old buddy today. When I walked in, I was greeted by a handsome elderly gentleman with a fancy cane who told me that I was welcome to come in but he had already eaten all the food. Channeling Grandroobly I guess. He was a customer and the hostess came along and rescued me with, “Is that your lady friend over there?” And there she was! The hostess had remembered her too. And that we were a pair. I sometimes eat at the VK but my friend hasn’t been there for two years. Her new house is not too far from the Planet Ann Arbor but probably far enough that we won’t meet every week. But I’m still glad she’s home.
After breakfast, I hit up the Plum Market and then walked on home. I worked from home today. The power was supposed to be out in various areas of the building today, including my cube, and the advice given was to work from home or bring in an extension cord and a flashlight (for the bathroom). I knew that I would not be as productive at home but I have “published” a lot of stuff lately and I felt like a slacker kind of day would be tolerated. I can haz that occasionally, I think. I think everyone should.
I did get work done but I was also able to take care of some naggy little bank things that are hard to do since I work more or less the same hours the bank is open. Today, I had a couple of Comm Central checks to deposit, so I got the deposit ready and headed over to the drive-thru. I didn’t really look at the teller when she greeted me and, because the checks and deposit slip had The Comm’s name on them, I was surprised when she thanked me using *my* name. Usually the drive-thru tellers call me The Comm’s name when I deposit her checks. It was then that I realized this teller was none other than The Beautiful Eleanor, who has worked at that bank branch since it was 1st of America (it became National City and is now PNC). She knows me not only from my own personal banking business but from all of the PTO treasuries I managed over the years. When I would schlep big bunches of carefully counted and bundled cash over there for deposit. I almost never go inside that bank branch any more or even use the drive-through. I can do almost every bit of banking I need to do via the Internet or an ATM. It took me a minute to process that it was Eleanor and she recognized me. Not that I was surprised. She’s one of the reasons I didn’t leave that bank when PNC took it over.
I digressed a bit there but today got interesting when a certain financial guy called and asked if he could meet with me. Sure, I’m working from home today. Just as he was coming down the street, the Long Suffering Cat Herding Person called. On the phone. I think the LSCHP has *called* me about four times since I have worked for him. So I was on the phone with LHCSP when I let FinGuy in the door. Yiiiiiy… I mitigated that situation with the usual Kayak Woman grace klutziness. And then the faarrrrwood delivery guy came along…