I was hanging around over by Louie-Louiiii’s cube today talking him down off whatever ledge he happened to be on at that moment when… Rrrrrrrr beep… beep… beep… A bunch of the lights went out and the emergency lights all came on aaaannndddd… Some areas of the cube farm had lucky-shucky and some had, hmmm…

Someone who knows more about the building lucky-shucky than the average bear instructed us that if we were plugged into outlet “4”with the little red triangle thingy above it (in the depths of our cubes), we were on “backup battery” lucky-shucky, which was okay as long as it lasted. Any other outlet had wonky lucky-shucky. (Wonky wasn’t the actual word he used but it works.) I crawled under my desk with my iPhone flashlight and switched my plug into the correct outlet. I refused to crawl into the mess in the LSCHP’s office cave. He was on his own. Oh, not that he asked me (or anyone else) to do that.

Anyway, we had just scheduled a little design catch-me-up kind of powwow and guess what? We moved it down the road to the sports bar by Woldemort. “You guys wanna drink?” asked the LSCHP. Oh yes, was the answer (actually the Queen Bee was responsible and ordered a soft drink). In fact, he told our waitress why we were there and then he said that maybe sometime next month he would stick a screwdriver into an outlet somewhere so we could do it again. A corporate credit card paid for this little junket (team building exercise). I have worked very hard my whole life, whether paid or not and I still can’t get used to the idea that I don’t always have to pay my own way. I still try though.

I retain a pretty healthy respect for lucky-shucky but I am less scared of it than when I was a kid and was *terrified*! The Commander was a weeeee bit overprotective in some ways when I was really small and kind of over-hyped typical childhood dangers like playing with matches and sticking utensils into lucky-shuckial outlets. I was not a kid that needed to be told things more than once and doing so just kicked my overactive imagination into high gear. (I probably did that kind of stuff to my kids too — sorry!) And then there was the time she plugged in the old frying pan down there on Superior Street and the ratty old cloth cord burst into flames.

Nowadays, after all these years of plugging and unplugging technological devices, I’m not all that chicken any more, although I *hate* messing around with the fuses at the moomincabin. You have to SLAM them into place with the palm of your hand and every time I have to do that, I expect a shower of sparks and lucky-shuckial buzzing. Bzzzzzzzp! Bbbbbzzzzzzzppttt! Oh, not that they actually DO that!

Home now rushing around to get ready to leave for the Great Hot North tomorrow, er, not that I have much to pack since my ratty old leisure clothes are all up there already. Left them at Houghton Lake 10 days ago and the GG picked them up today on *his* way up. And making a quick batch of pesto to freeze — so quick that as I was grating cheese, I had to remind myself that blood is not a pesto ingredient! Yes, I grated my thumb. No, there is no blood in the pesto.

It’s a long weekend for me but it’ll be a quick one and I’ll be butt in seat bright and early Tuesday morning.

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