if i am not your hero, i should be

If I am not your hero, I should be, for

I have liberated the funk from the pantry refrigerator!

Wondering what it was? A half sandwich from the Oyster Bar. All I’ll say about the encounter is this: one of us went down swingin’.

Speaking of going down...

(No, no NO! You filthy birds! My mother reads this blog! Would I write about that here??)

(Mom, they were talking about firefighters and their firepoles.)

(I mean, um... what?)

Ahem.

So I work at the Chrysler Building and one of the really cool features we have in our lovely, retro building is a mail chute. I don’t think anyone really uses it anymore, and, truth be told, I have no idea if it works or not. But the other day I dropped a postcard down the chute. And I listened in the little mail opening until I heard it quietly plunk onto the pile at the bottom.

(Or at least what I thought was the pile at the bottom. Could have been the trash can at the bottom. Or the paper shredder at the bottom. Or the very quiet fire-breathing dragon at the bottom.)

But the best part about it is that the mail chute is transparent, and I could see the postcard on its travels. I just hope someone on another floor saw it too and it tickled them as much as it tickled me.

(Not likely. I was pretty tickled.)

Unrelatedly (except that it happened at work, and this is a jobs/work/career post)... I made oatmeal the other morning and stirred it with a plastic spoon. Apparently it was a little bit on the flaming-hot side, as when I pulled the spoon out for a bite, it had melted into more of a hoe shape than a spoon shape. Needless to say, I did not get a new spoon: I hoed oatmeal into my mouth that morning, just for the challenge.

Ah, work-related nonsense. You are a sad, sad category in my life.