The fact that this is the first Monday of my post Dex life is significant because my lovely wife, Rebecca has had Mondays off for the last fifteen years. So it’s an extra day to spend with her and a extra chance to sleep in. The morning got off to a very Bob like start and continued to unwind from there. I was deep in REM sleep dreaming about, you guessed it, work. Barb and Laura and Feven were present and the office appeared to be chaotic, as if we were going through yet another move. The scenario involved a discussion of office supplies that were left out for the taking as people vacated their cubes. For some reason I was sorting through a stack of staplers. That’s when the phone rang. Not in the dream. Strangely I didn’t have that post nightmare sensation of “Oh, God, I’m so relieved that that was only a dream!”
It was Quinn on the phone sounding amazingly chipper for that early in the morning. Her first words were “Were you still sleeping?” and then she apologized, told me to go back to sleep and signed off. There would be no sleep though, because it sounded like there was a tank idling outside the house. Further investigation revealed that it was a giant front end loader parked on the street, right in front of our house idling while the operator talked on the phone. I went out for the paper, casting my best stink-eye in the direction of the heavy equipment. It wasn’t long before the rest of the operation showed up, a dump truck and some strange machine designed to eat asphalt, grinding away the top layer down to about a foot. Soldiers in the never ending war against potholes.
Next mission, pick up a latte for my bride and a dark roast for myself, with a side trip to the Walgreen’s next door to pick up some prescriptions as well as milk and cream. So at the coffee place I was waited on my the guy we fondly refer to as Mr. Crabby Ass. The twofer coupon I had expired simultaneously with my career at Dex, the guy couldn’t hear what I ordered, couldn’t Â remember the details and seemed to be having a terrible time entering my order into the register. The woman making the drinks had the latte ready before C. A. made change, she knows me and knows I belong to the woman with the mediumskimlattehalfshotcaramel. On to the drugstore. No cream in stock. I ordered the wrong prescriptions and one was still waiting for Doc’s approval. That’s when I realized I hadn’t put cream in my coffee , so back to the coffee shop. Otherwise, it was a great morning.