Crime Watch Wednesday - Where There's Fire, There's Toast?

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This week's Crime Watch Wednesday proves the old adage "where there is smoke, there is fire" is totally wrong.

Police reported to the scene of a house fire to discover it was just a person that burned some toast.

I love the simplicity of this one.  The reader is left to wonder who called the police? Why did they call the police and not the fire department? Was there actually smoke or just the smell of something burning?  How did the police determine it was just toast? Did it involve breaking down doors?  I would like to believe it happened like this:

Dispatch: Officers get to 123 Lane Avenue STAT - the place is ON FIRE!

Police: We are not the fire department.

Dispatch: Don't argue with me! It is an EMERGENCY!!

Police: What are we supposed to do when we get there? Shoot the fire?

Dispatch: EMERGENCY!!!

{upon arriving at the scene}

Officer 1: I don't see a fire.

Officer 2: It smells like something is burning.

Officer 1: It smells like breakfast.

Officer 1: Mmmmm...breakfast.

{upon arriving at the front door}

Owner: Can I help you?

Officer 2: Something is burning.

Officer 1: We were told there is a fire.

Officer 2: It smells like something is burning.

Owner: Um, I burnt some toast?

Officer 1: Mmmmm....breakfast

I should totally be a movie writer. Or a sitcom writer.

True story - yesterday I got to the office and saw a huge amount of people milling around the front of the building and around the elevators. Double the amount of people you find standing there when the elevator is broke.  Somehow this only seemed mildly odd to me.  I heard rumblings of "false alarm." Then I ran into our receptionist who informed me the building had just been evacuated minutes before.  Why you ask? 

Someone burnt toast on the fifth floor.

It's an epidemic, people.  Lock up your bread!

The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same While Changing

Remember when I said I was thinking up new and exciting things for the blog? Well, I really wasn't referencing this blog. I decided to start a second blog. You know, because I have so much free time on my hands and all. The focus of my other blog is cooking. Or lack thereof. Long time readers know that I have had a few adventures in cooking, one that ended up with an ER trip. Hopefully that won't be repeated on the new blog. I am excited to start a cooking journey. So, please, check out the new pad. The link is on the top left under the aptly named "My Other Blog" section. And if you have tips, recipes, thoughts, ideas, please share.

As for here? Well I decided to change the layout and even made my own header. And by making my own header, I mean I found a header and added those words. Of course that only took me about 3 hours since I had to find a free paint program for Mac, then learn said program, and then finish it. Yes, all you website designers can rest easy. Your jobs are safe. Same for HTML people. Wait. Isn't that the same thing? What do I know? I am no doctor.

I am also going to try to post more often on this blog. I had grand plans to get some posts done in advance. Then I got sick. You know what sucks? Getting sick. You know what is worse? Getting sick while out of the office for the holidays. There should be a law against that. But the ultimate in worseness? STILL being sick when you have to go back to work on Monday. Damn you little germs and viruses.

That's it for now. Stay tuned tomorrow to meet Vicky.

And here's pictures of a really awesome sunset we had recently. Well, in November, but whatever. The pictures don't do it justice.

I Got Someone Fired on Christmas Even Though I Don't Have that Power, But She Didn't Know that a/k/a BagelGate 2009

Fridays in our office are Casual Day. If you are not meeting with clients or in court, you can wear jeans. Unfortunately, I do not get to partake a lot because I am usually in court. Hence, Fridays seem to be Dani Wears a Suit Day. Not as exciting or as comfortable.

Fridays are also Bagel Day. One person is the designated bagel person. Usually I do not have my first pick in bagels and end up taking whatever is left over, or nothing at all. That would be because I am in court. However, when I am there for jeans and bagels? I call that heaven.

So last week we knew there would be a skeleton crew on Christmas Eve. For some reason we were going to be open all day (that later changed to 3 pm). I was only going in until lunch and because of lunch, which I had scheduled for just a few miles from the office. When the email came asking for a head count for people that would be in the office for Bagel Day, I replied right away.

Christmas Eve became my heaven.

I got there bright and early at 8 am (well for Christmas Eve that is bright and early) and began telling everyone how excited I was for my bagel. S was excited too. Then at 9 I began to complain that I was starving. After all, I didn't eat breakfast in anticipation of this bagel. Then at 9:10 I heard there would be no bagel because the bagel person claimed no one responded to the email.

Christmas was RUINED!

I went to my sent box and the email was there. S claimed she sent one too. We grabbed our coats and on the way out to the bagel place, we made a stop at the Bagel Person's office:

Me: YOU ARE FIRED

BP: I am sorry

Me: YOU ARE FIRED

BP: Only 5 people responded, so....

Me: Wait...huh? WHAT?

BP: There wasn't a big response...

BP: Do you want some of my candy bar?

Me: I WANT A BAGEL

Me: I AM GOING TO GET A BAGEL

And so I got a bagel. A much better bagel actually than I would have had if the person had come through. Of course, the better bagel required me to put on my coat, go outside, DRIVE to the bagel place and waste what little time I had planned on spending in the office. So, there was that.

Also? 5 people? That IS A RESPONSE! If you ask "how many people will be in so I know how many people to buy bagels for" and 5 people respond, BUY FIVE BAGELS. At the very least, email those 5 people and tell them they are on their own. That way maybe the will not rely on your bagel. Maybe they will eat breakfast.

Lesson here? The bagel you buy could save your job.

Another lesson? Buy your own damn bagel!

*No actual people were fired in BagelGate 2009. I do not have that kind of power.**

**Even if I had that power, I probably wouldn't fire someone over BagelGate 2009.***

***But I might really want to.

It's a Snack War! Or is it a Snack Store??

You all know that my office* loves its snacks, right? They always have an abundance of cheezits cheeseballs, goldfish, and two kinds of pretzels. Even the clients love the snacks. Well some may say the love for snacks went a bit too far.

First, someone decided we needed healthy snacks. Although, generally a good idea, that meant one of the above snacks had to go because there wasn't enough room. Sadly it was the nugget pretzels and the goldfish. People cried. People wailed. I just thanked God the cheeseballs stayed.** In their place we got a wide variety of snacks that would make their debut every Monday. Yes, only one snack at a time and only on Monday. They would just appear in a basket. If they were good snacks and disappeared quickly, we still had to wait until the following Monday for more snacks. The anticipation and tortuer and wondering was just too much for me to handle. Until the raisins debuted. Then I just laughed dismissively and made myself a big ol' bowl of cheeseballs.

Next came the fresh fruit. That was brilliant. Except it was pay for your own on the honor system and some of the fruit was very expensive. I stuck with bananas as they were only a quarter. Helluva deal folks. Of course, I didnt eat them in the office. I took them home to put them in my cereal. Who wants to buy a bunch of bananas that go bad when you can just get one in your office? My logic astounds me.

Finally one day I happened to look at our vending machine. Yes, throughout this all we still had a vending machine with your usual array of items - candy bars, chips, donuts, etc. Well I noticed it was looking quite sparse:

A closer look revealed that it was almost empty:

When I inquired as to what was going on, I was told that a new company bought the old company but they were in a fight over who gets what profits or something so the old company stopped stocking and locked the machines so the new one could not get in. It was a snack war! I pondered whether there was a snack mafia and whether a shoot out would occur in our kitchen. Luckily, our receptionist packs some heat.*** So there we were with limited snacks and stale chips. This did not deter some people in the office who continued to purchase snacks WAY beyond their expiration date. I then pondered if we would need to call an ambulance. Apparently, though, chocolate never really expires. Think about THAT.

In order to pacify the peeps who were upset about stale chips and nonexistent junk food, the office decided to bring in its own snacks to sell. It started out small:

And then grew to epic proportions:

A partner was overheard remarking "Are we going to install a uscan in here."

It does look a bit like a grocery store, no?

*My former office, but that's for another post.

**The big man is looking out for me!

***The receptionist got a CCW license and started carrying a gun. Try swiping your cards through our secured doors again client man!

Who Me? Fat? Come on.

We went to the vet over the weekend. By "we" I mean me carrying two fat ass cats in one carrier. B met me there and I immediately told him "these two need to lose some weight." Apparently, only one does.

Chester, my friend, you are FAT. The vet says he has gained a half a pound according to the scale, immediately after she had pet him and declared "you are a BIG boy". B tried to claim he was solid. Oh he is solid all right, 18.5 pounds of solid.

18.5 pounds. Did you read that?

That is not even his highest weight. His highest was something like 19.8 and we had to put him on a diet. We may have to try that again, although it is hard to regulate food when you have two cats.

Meanwhile, Mooch is holding tight at 11 pounds.

You know what that means? I was carrying almost 30 lbs of cat. 29.5 to be exact.

You may not believe Chester is so "curvy" if you haven't met him in person, but the next best thing is some pictures, so here you go:

He looks so rough in those last two. Poor Chester. The vet also said that he was a handsome poor while peering into his face, and she is right. He may be solid, he may need a diet, but he is a handsome boy!

In other news...do you know how difficult it is to wrangle two cats into one carrier, especially when one has all of his claws? Luckily I outsmarted them and shut every door upstairs. Just me, the cats and the hallway. You can run, but you cannot hide. Literally.

Who's A Hoarding?

B accuses me of hoarding all of the time, but this is where it comes in handy. See that picture? It has 10 boxes of cereal, and three boxes of oatmeal in it. I went a little wild during a cereal sale and brought all of that home. Lucky for us, we have these shelves in the basement since the tiny pantry in the kitchen will only hold about two boxes.

B laughed at all of my cereal and scoffed when I said we eat a lot.

That picture was taken on March 22nd. It is April 2nd.

We only have four boxes of cereal and one box of oatmeal left. That does not count the three boxes of cereal and two boxes of oatmeal we ate from the pantry.

Who's laughing now? Heck, in another week I will need to buy more cereal.

Maybe someone around here *ahem* needs to start cooking more meals.

B?

Just Another Day in the Office

Scene: Me, J and D in the office kitchen. J sets down a small tupperware bowl on the counter near me. It contains oatmeal, a hard boiled egg and raisins:

Me: Is that your breakfast?

J: Part of it. I had a smoothie earlier.

D: Is that oatmeal, a hard boiled egg and raisins?

Me: No! That is a nest and a bird is going to pop out of there anytime.

D: When is this supposed to happen?

J: Early spring

Me: Listen, we are going to be filming it and broadcasting it on Office TV so we can all watch and eagerly anticipate this happening. Like nature TV.

D: We aren’t relying on the groundhog for this are we?

Me: No! We can NEVER rely on the groundhog, that bastard!

C having walked right into this conversation: I learn more in this kitchen then I do anywhere else {and then leaves}

J: I hope this is a hard boiled egg, I just grabbed one out of the fridge. Isn’t there a spinning test for that?

Me: I don’t know about a spinning test but there should be some kind of test. Maybe putting it in a glass of water?

J: And if it floats it is hard boiled…or is it if it sinks?

Me: Actually I think the water test is to tell if uncooked eggs are still good so I am not sure that will help you out.

J: Here goes {squeezing egg which causes pieces of shell to fly everywhere}

Me: {making total girly gasping squealing sound}

P having walked into the end of this conversation shouts: Wait! Spin it!

Too late.

There was a spinning test after all. Who knew? If your egg spins, it is hard boiled. If it wobbles, it is not.

If it is sitting in a bed of oatmeal, it will look like a nest.

Peanut Butter and Popcorn

On a completely different subject, let's talk peanut butter and popcorn. Not together, mind you. Although that could be yummy.  No this is about some recent events involving peanut butter and popcorn, separately.

Here's the thing - I eat the same thing for breakfast every single day.  No lie. Quaker Oatmeal Cinnamon Roll. That is it. No other flavor will do.  When I run out, not only am I sad, but I immediately decide that is justification for a toasted plain bagel loaded with cream cheese from Elaine's*.  Not good.  So I try not to run out of oatmeal.  However, since I am behind in everything including shopping, I ran out this weekend.   So Saturday I woke up and thought "no oatmeal - its bagel time!"  Then I decided I was too lazy to leave the house.  What to eat? 

After rummaging around in our tiny pantry I came up with peanut butter toast. YUM.  So I made some and ate it and all was well in my world.  Until about 20 minutes later when I got a stomach ache.  It was then that it hit me:

There is a peanut butter recall.

PEOPLE DIED.

Suddenly, I was convinced that my peanut butter was tainted and I was GOING TO DIE.  Panicked, I slightly remembered that perhaps big named peanut butter makers were not part of this. So I rushed downstairs to get the peanut butter to see what kind it was and rush back up to do some research into the matter.

45 minutes later I had totally forgotten my quest and instead was doing laundry when B came home.  He mentioned that I didn't look well which triggered thoughts about my stomach ache:

Me: Well I have a slight stomach ache. I think it is from the peanut butter I ate. Do you think I am GOING TO DIE?

B:  Well you are not 80.  

Me: What does that have to do with anything?

B: You are close, but you are not 80.**

Me: AND?????

B: And your immune system is not weakened.

Me: Not that we KNOW of.  Is it only elderly people and weak people dying?

B: I don't know.  Was it a new jar of peanut butter?

Me: No.  It wasn't. It was opened and used.

B:  It was opened? By someone in this house?

Me: Yeah. I think I ate some before.

B: Did you DIE before?

Me: No.....

B:  Peanut butter does not just go bad because it is peanut butter and there is a recall. If it is bad now, it would have been bad before.

Me: Huh

Crisis averted.

Me: Well I am relieved to hear that.

B: Me too. I am also relieved that popcorn didn't kill me.

Flash back a few days earlier, I was making popcorn when B asked me to throw some in the microwave for him.  I told him all I had was some sample pack.  He said throw it in anyway, and I did.  Later when I got it out for him it smelled AWFUL, just AWFUL:

Me: What is wrong with this popcorn?

B: What?

Me: Can't you smell that? It is like lemon or something.

B:  It does smell weird.

Me: Do you think it is bad.

B: I don't know.

Me: Well it is not NORMAL for your popcorn to smell like PLEDGE.

Despite my saying that, B ate it.  B did not die.

Turns out it was lime and salt popcorn.***

Mystery solved.

Crisis averted.

*I love you and miss you Elaine's. See you soon {wink}

**B loves to get his digs in about how much "older" I am. Two years buddy, two little years.  You are no spring chicken and I am no craddle robber.

***Do NOT buy this popcorn unless you plan on dusting with it.  B said it tasted "okay" but the smell was downright nauseating. That cannot be normal or healthy, even if it says it is organic.

Can You See What I See?

You can now! And what I hear.  Here is the first installment, and maybe the last depending on my whim, of Seen and Heard.  These are little tidbits that cannot hold their own separate blog post, so I gathered them here for your amusement.  Enjoy!

HEARD - from B while on a plane to Vegas upon finding an advertisement for The Beast on our tray table - "Nobody puts Baby on a tray table."

SEEN - A man downing a packet of Splenda in Stabucks. From the packet. By itself. I know it says it tastes just like sugar, but it doesn't and it certainly isn't a pixie stick dude. Really.

HEARD - at Starbucks "This vanilla must be dehydrated" while holding the vanilla shaker "you know, because vanilla is usually liquid."

HEARD - "by now we were all supposed to be wearing jet packs" by B - all the time. What is with men's obsession with jet packs? Not going to happen. This is not the Jetsons.  And the dinosaur age was not like the Flintstones.

SEEN - two girls dressed for homecoming trying to get out of a restaurant door. First one pulled the first door. The second pulled the other door. Finally, they realized they had to push.

SEEN - giant empty bag of Swedish Fish in my office garbage, yet no Swedish Fish in sight ever. Are they hiding them from me? I only love those above all other candy.  Gonna have to go fishing. Yeah, I said that.  You know you chuckled.

HEARD - "isn't coming in today. Her hair is falling out or something."

SEEN - covered concept car being driven down the road. How fun can that be to drive? No one can tell what kind of car it is.  You look like you just forgot to take off the cover or something.

SEEN - guy with one of those grocery carts that has the baby seat fixed in it. He didn't have a baby. Just a bag of peas where the baby should be. Creepy or convenient?  

HEARD - "Hello" by guy on way into Starbucks that sounded an awful lot like a character in the Fashion Fits game I was playing nonstop at the time.  Coincidence or pure insanity? You decide.

And a random picture of Mooch and Chester in a rare moment of love circa New Year's Eve 2008:

The Time it All Went Green...

While I have been at home vacationing, I decided to fiddle with some holiday dessert thingies that I love but have never made. Okay, one I have made before (two years back), the other never. The first would be chex muddy buddies or puppy chow.  Pain to make, almost impossible to properly coat with powdered sugar, but so yummy and addicting.  That project worked out fine.

The second were cornflake marshmallow green wreath thingies. The recipe calls them cookies, but really...who are we fooling here? There is no cooking involved. In fact, there is no baking involved. Just melting, pouring and waiting.  The first batch turned out fine.  Since it was my first time, I didn't bother trying to make them into pretty little wreaths. I just dropped them by the spoonful and sprinkled cinnamon sugar sprinkles on them and called it "done."  I remember walking away thinking that they looked more like clumps of holly with berries than wreaths, but since it was just for B and I, did it really matter?  We will ignore the fact that the first thing B said was "those don't LOOK like wreaths."   He should know by now that I am not about presentation.  Presentation comes last. Yumminess must be mastered first.

Well the wreaths were a big hit with the two of us while the poor puppy chow is still sitting there being munched on less enthusiastically.  I passed some of it on to my parents today and then got the brilliant idea to make them some of the cornflake wreath marshmallow thingies. After all, why not share the yummy goodness with others? It is my holiday duty.*

Remembering that I had to add the vanilla and green food coloring in very quickly at the end before everything started cementing, I decided to premeasure it and put it into little bowls. This worked out so well last time.  As I poured the green food coloring into the little bowl I remember thinking "less likelihood of spillage."  Then I turned and knocked over the open bottle of green food coloring which proceeded to spill ACROSS THE ENTIRE COUNTERTOP.  I let out a little "no" that I thought was pretty inaudible** and moved quickly to get papertowel. 

As I tried to sop it up only to discover the papertowel, my fingers, the sink AND THE FRICKIN' COUNTER were all still a lovely Christmas green, I started to panic.  Any minute B would come in and I would have to explain why our previously beige countertop was green and what an idiot I was for messing with food coloring.  I decided I needed a rag.  Hurrying back to the rags, I passed B who inquired "so what's going on..." to which I replied "you really do not want to know."  He agreed.  I quickly returned to the kitchen with a rag.

Fringing on losing my mind, I rush to the computer and google "how to get food coloring out of a countertop."  The results all lead me to articles on how to get food coloring out of clothes involving presoaking, etc.  Apparently no one gets it on their counter. Just me.  I panic once more and start to wonder how much it costs to replace a countertop when it dawns on me...wait! How do I get it off my fingers when I cook?  Dishsoap!

Off I run back to the kitchen to add dishsoap to the rag and it worked!!  The green came off and you cannot even tell it was there.  I swear it was only about 5 minutes this whole experience took place, but it felt like forever.  Later, B made an appearance in the kitchen, looked around and said "well?"  "Well, what" I replied all nonchalantly, "crisis averted."***  "Oh, the crisis that needed a rag?"  So observant that one.  He still has no idea what happened, although I gave him a little clue by saying:

"But whatever you do, do not wash your clothes with the rag in the washer. Unless you want them Christmas green, that is."

The wreath/holly marshmallow thingies turned out great. They are missing the red cinnamon things because B declared he did not like them. I figured my parents might not either.

Look at that yummy goodness! Makes me want to go eat another one.  We still have enough fixings for one more batch.

That one will NOT be green.

*I know the holidays are over but in my head they last all the way until I go back to work on Monday.

**That B has supersonic hearing, I tell ya.

**Until later when I decided to heat up milk for hot chocolate only to have it overflow and burn while I was not looking.  That was after moving it to a different burner as the first burner had pieces of green marshmallow on it that had escaped me.  B came out and said "what is going on NOW? I hear fan on , fan off and something smells AWFUL."  What? Can't a girl get a cup of hot chocolate?

We All Scream for Ice Cream

Apparently there is a new diet I have not yet heard about it.  It involves eating mounds of ice cream before 10:00 a.m. on the weekends.

Every Saturday (or Sunday as I change the days to accompany my "workout schedule" which is in quotes because I intend to work out but never really do), my Mom and I go out to breakfast.  We go to the same place even though my brother, when allowed to accompany us, has pointed out that the place is overpriced.*  But here's the thing...it is right down the road from my Mom's house, the waitresses are really nice, they recognize us and they know our orders by heart (although I sometimes confuse them by changing my orders like I change my "workout schedule").  It was during these breakfasts that my Mom and I started to notice what we have dubbed as the "Early Morning Mounds of Ice Cream Diet."

We were casually chatting about our lives, silly men, blogs, and contests when I noticed a woman eating a LOT of ice cream.  I could not really believe what I was seeing was true, so I asked my mom to nonchalantly look. She confirmed that, indeed, the woman was eating a LOT of ice cream.  However, she was almost done so we could not be sure that it was the only thing she had eaten.  A couple of weeks later, same lady - same ice cream. And it was the ONLY thing she ate.  Big mounds of chocolate ice cream.  Okay, mystery ON.

A few more times, same lady.  Then one day as my Dad joined us, a DIFFERENT lady is eating all of this ice cream. We point it out to him. He says "huh."  Apparently the male species just is not that intrigued by the mystery ice cream diet.  My Mom mentions how there is a Weight Watchers' location right next door and maybe this is their special treat.  Look, I am familiar with WW and I do not believe anywhere in the plan are you supposed to have huge mounds of ice cream FOR BREAKFAST. Especially after you just weighed in.  Kind of defeats the whole purpose of changing your eating habits, don't you think?  But I am not ready to dismiss my Mom's theory because it is just too coincidental to see these women, right next to the WW, right after a meeting, in their crazy sweatsuit outfits, reading the paper and eating ice cream. Oh, did I mention that they all read the paper while doing this? Cause they do. It's a fact.

So every week, we go to lunch, my Mom and I. We do not witness these ladies every week.  That makes me forget about them until the next time we see them. Like yesterday.  Another new EMMICD** dieter came in and this time I saw the big mounds of ice cream being delivered to her. And I heard her ask for a straw.  A straw!  My Mom, who had unfortunately left the table at this time and missed the exchange, upon being informed what had happened queried "Why a straw? What is she going to do with that?"  "What do you THINK?", I cried, "She is going drink the melted ice cream.  There is no way someone can eat all that ice cream before it melts!"  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  And a straw.

So tell me...is there a special EMMICD out there that I have not yet heard about? Does it require eating mounds of chocolate (yes, only chocolate) ice cream with or without a straw, while reading a newspaper and just after a WW meeting gets out, while wearing a sweatsuit? Because I don't know about you, but to me it sounds like the cause of the problem, not a way to fight the problem.

But what do I know? I eat eggs for breakfast.

*FYI Bro - they have a new $2.99 breakfast special on the weekends - 2 eggs, 2 bacon, 2 sausage and toast. Watch out! They must have overheard your complaints.

**EMMICD stands for "Early Morning Mounds of Ice Cream Diet" in case you were not paying attention.

A Bad Case of the Mondays

I know it is not Monday, but that doesn't mean I cannot talk about Monday. Or Mondays as in plural. As in bad Mondays I have had lately.  Two to be exact, although one was much harder on B than I.

The Monday before last was after Sunday.  Wow logic, right?  Well Sunday has now become Family Dinner Day in the Riddler household.   This involves my making up some concoction to throw in the crockpot because it is so easy while trying not to cut off any appendages in the process.  There are currently three in rotation (1) applesauce chicken, (2) candy chicken, and (3) slimy pot roast. Yep, this isn't going to become a cooking blog anytime soon.  Family Dinner Day culminates with B and I eating said dinner on the couch, in front of the TV while watching an episode of season 2 of Dexter.  Nothing like crockpot cooking and a serial killer to equate to quality family time.  The cats even get involved by trying to sniff around for leftovers as if they eat chicken or pot roast.  They are especially fond of the applesauce chicken it seems.

So the Sunday before last was quite hectic.  I was out with my mom actually shopping for what we were going to eat and running late.  Crockpot cooking is fun and easy but it requires time. Usually at least 4 hours.  And B? He prefers to eat his dinner before 8 pm.  So I wanted to get home and get the dinner cooking.  Well, that did not occur until 3.  Around 6:30 I decide dinner is done, however, the chicken was slightly pink so back in it went.  When we finally went to eat it B declared it to be "not pink" and all was good. Of course, he still proceeded to microwave his piping hot chicken to "make sure" it was done. Don't know if microwaves kill salmonella, but he seems to think they do. Dinner was good. Dexter killed some people. Cats begged.  All was well in our world.

And then Monday.  I come home from the office around 5. B announced that he was sick and had been vomiting since 4.  That's a lot of vomiting. Sure enough he ran back into the bathroom and proceeded to vomit every 15 minutes for the next 5 hours!! I thought for sure I killed him.  In my rush to cook dinner, I gave him salmonella.   Panicked, I instant messaged my Mom who told me that (a) he would have gotten it sooner than 24 hours after eating and (b) I ate the same thing and I was fine.  Relieved that I had not inadvertently poisoned my husband, I spent the rest of those 5 hours wondering if he was going to live and cursing that we did not have two bathrooms.  Seriously.  My poor bladder. I held it so long because I did not want to be in there when the 15 minutes was up and B needed the room.  Then I made the mistake of sleeping with him.  He was moaning and thrashing about.   Around 3 am, all was calm in the world.  2 hours and 40 minutes later, I arose for work and thanked the gods above it was Tuesday.  By 1 pm, I was nearly passing out from lack of sleep and headed home to find a nonpuking B to my relief. And although B proceeded to recover the next couple of days and could not really eat until Wednesday, it was not so bad as it was on Monday.

So, this Monday had to be better, right?  Well the pot roast on Sunday was fully cooked - no food poisoning for us.  B did not contract a violent stomach virus - score!  But, alas, something even more horrifying occurred...

I lost the keys to my office snack drawer.  

I cannot get to my snacks. At all.  Oh, also my dictaphone is in there but I am considering that less of a crisis.*  The thing is...I don't usually eat the snacks in that drawer.  In fact, I was going to do a blog post about the contents of the drawer because I seriously have no idea what is in there. I constantly throw things in there, never to be pulled out again.  After reading another blogger's list of things found in her office drawer, I figured that would be fun. And it would. If I knew what the heck was in there! Now I may never know.  At least it was nothing perishable. 

I think.

And Monday? Monday I REALLY needed some snacks.  I remember staring blindly at my key ring unable to comprehend that those two little keys were no longer there. Yes, there were two keys. Yes, I kept them on the same key ring. Yes, I am an idiot.  An idiot without snacks.  I resolved myself to the cheese balls in the office kitchen, which are quickly gaining more popularity than the cheezits, but it was not the same.   Everyone at work was put on high alert for my keys (although I really think they are at the grocery store from Sunday). Coworkers sent me links to videos and how-tos on how to pick a lock. I tried one that involved a binder clip and a paper clip.  I still don't have any snacks. We all know I cannot pick  a lock. At least this time, I didn't use a penny.  Defeated I went home and told B my woeful tale. B, with a look of total shock said:

"You didn't tell me you had snacks in your office drawer!"

As if I am withholding snacks form him or something.  Okay, I have been known to do this. In fact there are mint M&Ms hidden right now (although not in my office drawer thank God), but this is for his own good. This boy goes through sweets like you would not believe. I hide them until he is out and then unveil them to become the snack hero.  Although if I am not quick enough, the next time I go to bake cookies, I will notice I have a lot less baking chips.  I will then confront B who will say "I have a problem."

He and I both.  I think it is called Mondays.

*However, had my iPod been in there like it usually is during the week to protect it from thieves, that would have been a CODE RED CRISIS and a locksmith would have been called.  I live for iTUnes. Sad but true.