the great chair mystery...

SIDENOTE -timbo, you have already heard me ponder this particular conundrum today as you got it in real time via IM so this entry might be redundant to you...sorry kiddo!!

In lab, I have a desk. It is a lovely desk covered with pictures of my friends and my dogs and other random mementos of my nonscience life as well as hundreds if not thousands of research papers and chemistry text books...in approximately a 50/50 distribution, friends to science. This of course makes it a rare exception to most of the desks in the lab which I would say fall more on the 10/90 distribution range, with science dominating the landscape. But I digress...this is not about my desk. At my desk, sits a chair. My chair. There are a number of features which distinguish my chair from all the other red rolly office chairs. Well, really there are more like two. Two distinct features which distinguishes my chair from all the other red rolly office chairs. Number 1 - my black Vandy fleece which has made its home on my chair for the ever changing temperature drifts in the lab. 105 degrees outside in the middle of the Tennessee summer does not guard against a middle of the day in-lab cold front. However, the thought of carting around a lightweight fleece everyday, just in case, seemed ridiculous and thus the lab jacket was born. It is the most immediate way I can identify my chair, however, as it is at times a) in use or b) accidentally placed on another chair by an unaware janitor who knocked it off while sweeping the floor, i have a second chair identifying fail safe...which brings me to chair identifying factor number 2 - the "honk if you passed p.chem" bumper sticker that lives on the back of it. I have no idea who affixed this sticker to my chair oh so many years ago but it has resided there for as long as I can remember. And since I did pass p.chem, I have waged no serious objection to it. Sadly, since I am not in a high traffic area, there is typically very little honking despite being surrounded by individuals who also passed p.chem. Even in the minimal honking environment however, the bumper sticker has proven useful as the ultimate identifier in a number of incidents where in the lab jacket has been either removed from the chair altogether or otherwise misplaced on a different chair. My main attachment to my particular chair, as anyone with an adjustable office chair can verify, is that they are in fact adjustable....and you get used to your chair like it is and frankly, Jonas' chair feels weird and is not the right height and is just bad. bad news bears indeed.

All of that is to say, this morning i was presented with quite the mystery...the previously mentioned great chair mystery...today after i endured the walk in yet another dreary winter rainy/cold/disgusting/I'm moving to California day, i came in to the lab to find that my chair is really high. like, really...really high...i definitely did not leave it this way. At first i clearly thought "this is not my chair" but i validated its ownership with the aforementioned jacket/bumper sticker test and it is in fact my chair. Now my original thought was "what the...??who changed my chair..? i hope they drown in one of the many puddles surrounding our building..I don't even know how to readjust this thing...i mean, who would sit down in someone's chair and just make it obscenely high for no reason?? this is unacceptable lab etiquette..." and it is. just appalling really. But I quickly moved from this line of questioning to the more pressing question...what kind of person would want their chair at this setting???

As I sat in my newly adjusted chair, I made a number of observations....first, I am really really high with respect to my desk. The level surface area of my desk is nearly parallel with my waist and I have to reach down to type on my computer, which of course sits on my desk. second, my feet are barely touching the floor. Don't get me wrong, I mean they are touching the floor but I would say another two inches and I could swing them like a little kid on a park bench. Finally, because of the proximity to the desk, I have to in fact roll out from under my desk to cross my legs. roll out, cross, roll back....needless to say, i have minimized the crossing and re-crossing this morning. With all of these observations, I have reached quite a loss as to what kind of individual would want this particular chair setting. It is clearly not a normal sized person, which I am, all of this is awkward for me and therefore you would expect it to be for anyone in the mid five foot range. My first thought was it must have been a dwarf, because of the height of the resident of the chair relative to the desk. A freakishly short, large headed person (I will not lie to you, i do not like dwarfs because of their very large heads and short sausage fingers, both of which freak me out) would probably appreciate the increased assistance in reaching the desk provided by the unusual height of this particular chair setting. But then I recalled my second observation, the legs barely touching the ground situation, and felt that a dwarf would have a difficult time scaling the chair to sit in it. I mean, they are not called little people for nothing...and their tiny legs would surely not be of much use in the challenge faced by this chair. It seems unlikely it would a dwarf then, at least not one that is not otherwise equipped with a grappling hook and some high quality ropes. This led me then to assume it was some sort of giant-sized person....perhaps a Shaquelle O'Neil sized individual. I mean, they would clearly have no issues reaching the sitting platform of this chair and the glorious legroom they then experienced would be indulgent to say the least. This seems like the obvious answer...unless!! dun dun dunnnnn!!! unless! you remember my previous observations about both the height compared to the tabletop region of the desk and the leg crossing situation. Now I am willing to dismiss the leg crossing problem as maybe i just have fat legs, though it would follow that someone built like Mr. O'Neil would have larger legs than a 5'2" female...but nonetheless, we will set that aside for a moment. Lets focus on the sitter to desk ratio aspect for a moment. While I realize a giant would have long arms and therefore probably reach down to the desk easily, he (or she I suppose, but we will stick to he for consistency sake here) would be towering above the desk. Towering. Even if reach was not a concern, the mere strain on his eyesight to identify and utilize the objects below him which now appear tiny due to their great distance would suggest that this would not be an optimal chair setting for such a large man (or woman, but again, consistency). Who would want their chair like this..???? Clearly anyone falling into the category of "normal sized", "dwarf" or "giant" has been ruled out on the basis of logic alone...All I can conclude then is it must be a very long legged, unusually short torso-ed individual....who for some unknown reason felt they should adjust my chair to most conveniently suit their needs. I hate this long legged, unusually short torso-ed person for touching my chair...and hope they drown in a puddle very soon. I had no serious qualms with a mythical super long-legged, short torso-ed person until they had the gaul to recalibrate my chair, now however, the offense has been done and the puddle drowning hopefulness can not be dismissed....at least not without some sort of peace-making gesture, though I cant imagine what. Now...how do i lower my damn chair???


unrelated - in honor of his unexplained illness, I have promised my dear friend Steve a reference to the following conversation in my latest entry...
me: I am writing in my blog.
steve: you can write about how i spent the night puking on the bathroom floor.
me: ew, why did you do that?
steve: no clue, don't try it though.
me: I am writing about my chair.
The end. Ta-daaaaa!!!

8 days til Christmas!! yay Christmas!!
(no picture today, sadface)

scrub a dub dub...but not exactly

In the past two or so years, a phenomenon known as the "tide pen" has swept the country. And really, the craze is far beyond what one would expect for a typical laundry based product...but then again, how could Americans not get swept up in the idea of a handy little miracle worker that promised a portable solution to all your daily food/clothing mishaps...I mean, the commericals promise nothing less than magic. You've seen them, "oh no..i spilt an entire cup of cranberry juice on my wedding dress!!" (why are you drinking cranberry juice in your wedding dress???) whip out the tide pen and bam!! what cranberry juice? do you take this man? yay everyone lives happily ever after in wedded bliss.

As one would expect, i was clearly skeptical of the corporate claims but after every single person i have ever met in my entire life told me how wonderful their tide pen was, i was somewhat curious. Well, less curious and more "i don't care because i don't have food on me at the moment but if i had food all over me, i wouldn't totally dismiss you and your tide pen"...and I'll admit, after about two years of hearing of the tide-pen glory, I had never actually had the occasion to try one out. Sidenote - that is not to say that in two years i did not spill stuff on myself because clearly that happens during the majority of my bouts with food consumption. I just didn't have a tide pen handy when it happened...and despite the claims of loyalty and adoration, no one i was with while spilling on myself ever seemed to have one either. I don't know what kind of devotee that makes them but my guess would be less than awesome. Anyway, the point is I never actually used a tide-pen.

Then that fateful day arrived in the form of coffee on the front of my white button-down at a chemistry conference (I'm awesome, i know) and someone offered me their tide pen in the bathroom while i stared helplessly at the 12-14 oz of coffee i seemed to have unknowingly dribbled all over myself...grateful, i thanked them for their contribution to the resolution of my crisis and set about removing the coffee. i rubbed, i pushed, i dabbed. nothing. thinking perhaps i missing the special tide pen miracle step, i stopped...and read the directions. no, i appear to be doing it correctly. hmm...perhaps this stain is just too much of a challenge for a tide pen alone. I mean, i do appear to have been steadily soaking myself in coffee for a series of hours. Somewhat disheartened and thankful for the scarf i had brought with me that day, i tucked my new tide pen away, confident that it would save me in the next, not quite so serious spillage situation.

The next tide pen challenge came one deary November day when i was enjoying a delicious bread bowl containing turkey chili from bread & co (turkey chili...mmm....) and managed to get some of the aforementioned turkey-based chili on my hoodie. I immediately thought of my tide-pen and considered this the perfect opportunity for it to truly shine. I mean, an entire cup of coffee may have been asking a bit much, but a small dab of turkey chili? that's what tide pen lives for!!! it will not let me down...i rubbed, i pushed, i dabbed. nothing. once again, thinking perhaps i missing the special tide pen miracle step, i stopped...and read the directions. no, i appear to be doing it correctly. And yet, the tide pen proved no match for the turkey chili. Confused and saddened, both by the state of my hoodie and the disappointing performance of the tide pen, i put it back in my purse and accepted the fate of my beloved high school sweatshirt. Determined to give it one more try (after all, every single person i have ever met in my entire life couldn't be wrong, right?), the tide pen lived quietly in my purse awaiting yet another chance for it to prove how truly amazing it is.

And today I threw the damn tide-pen in the trash. After a short battle with a rather minuscule amount of "Chicken in Peanut Sauce" lean cuisine, and being heartbroken for a third time, I have decided that there is absolutely no merit in the tide pen. You may all argue with me on this point but I feel as though I have given it more than enough opportunities to dazzle and have been disappointed every single time...without fail. As far as I can tell, the sole function of the tide pen is to make a wet-ish spot near where the stain presently lies and make you feel better about yourself as you destroy the integrity of your particular garment attempting to violently convince the stain that it no longer wishes to reside in the interwoven fibers of this particular fabric...but you wont feel better, because the stain will not be convinced. It will just look at you and laugh. SO...save yourself the two dollars and the lifetime of sanity and just stick to the old "dab with water" tactic...it is equally effective and there are no soul-destroying expectations of grandeur...

...and then the rain came

I am quickly reminded of the procrastination potential of writing down the inane thoughts/happenings that i contemplate in the midst of my daily routine...science smchience...

Let me share with you a story....of why i will one day move to California...

Flash back to sometime late last week, I'm sitting here at my desk in lab, thinking about, but not necessarily doing, the required science to finish up this little "PhD" thing I've been working on for so long, when my phone rings...it's the dog boarder. This does not bode well because there is no reason for the dog boarder to be calling me unless they plan on telling me that my sometimes overzealous, if not well meaning, dogs have been banned for some unknown offense and I will need to find a new place to keep them during my out of town excursions. Granted, the last time they stayed at this little doggie haven, they came away still in good favor but nonetheless, I prepare for the worst...turns out, I overreacted. I am informed by the lovely Julie that as a present back to it's customers, each year Gone to the Dogs hires a professional photographer to come out and take pictures of their clients' dogs with Santa...and they wanted to invite me to bring Sadie and Daisy. It is of no cost to me and they would love to see us next Tuesday. I'm amused at the thought of subjecting the puppies to this and tell them I will try to make it out.

Now let's flash forward to yesterday, the aforementioned Tuesday. As I am walking in to school, I notice that the general cloudiness that was so boding while I got dressed is slowly maturing into a rainy unpleasantness. By the time I actually reach the Stevenson center, we are in the midst of a full on rainstorm. The morning passes and around lunch time I remember about the Santa/puppy/picture event that is supposed to be happening today and take a gander outside...shit. raining. After attempting to recruit several individuals to the "i shouldn't bother taking them all the way to the boarder since it's gross outside" team and being wholly rejected, I decide to suck it up. The glee that would radiate from all of the various parental units overrides my desire to avoid the wetness and besides...it's not raining that hard. I double check the post it on my desk and confirm, yes, December 9th, 9am-4pm, Pictures with Santa. Ok, it's 1pm, if we are gonna do it, lets do it I guess. So I suit up and trek home. It's rainy, I'm unhappy but eventually I make it home, mildly intact. Then comes the "dogs in the rain" portion of this adventure...so after finally getting their leashes attached to their collars, despite their mind blowing excitement, we all head out into the rain and as quickly as possible load up into the car. I say as quick as possible because the dogs are torn between their shared hatred of rain and their intense desire to investigate the front yard. Soon enough however, we are in the car and we are off!!..me and the two wet dogs standing over me panting and pacing in the all of a sudden very small car for the 30 minute car ride to the boarders...as we enter the highway, I am clearly pleased to find that the "rain" I walked home in has now escalated into something more appropriately described as "fucking pouring" and the highways are taking on a striking resemblance to the Mississippi river. Ok, you all know how much I loooooove driving in the rain, so I will let you use your imagination for the 30 minutes of interstate fun...lets just say one dog almost didn't make it there. However, we finally pull in to Gone to the dogs and I shuttle the dogs through the now torrential downpour and into the building. All three of us are drenched. We all shake off and I look up into the eyes of the previously mentioned Julie and that's when she says it...."oh no! you aren't here for the Santa pictures are you??"

What???

"Yes, yes I am....you said today until 4. It's two."

"We sent the photographer home early, at one....because of the rain and all."

::silence::

"Well Keith said to tell anyone that showed up that next time they brought their dog in for daycare or boarding, he would put back on the Santa costume and we would make sure their picture got taken."

::soaking wet silence::

"I'm so sorry that you came all the way out here."

"umm...I...yea...I mean...I guess I should have called first to make sure you were still doing the pictures today...what with the rain and all..."

"Yea, we stopped it at one...hey Sadie!! how's my girl??"

::silence while the woman coos the puppies as if we had stopped by simply to say hello::

"Sorry again for the confusion...we'll do it this weekend when you board them!!"

"Um...ok. ok, then I guess I will see you Saturday..."

And then we leave. We sprint back to the car, renewing the somewhat subsided state of drenched, totally empty handed. Then I drive all the way back to the house with the now totally soaked dogs once again pacing the various available seats in the car, clearly confused as to why we are going back home and somewhat eager to sit in my lap for the remainder of the car ride, oblivious as to why this is an unacceptable option. I get them home and in the house, and realize that now, after all that, I need to return to lab. So I look outside and am overjoyed to find that was once described as "fucking pouring" has now progressed even further to "the wrath of god." Optimistic, I put on my raincoat and open my umbrella and brace myself for the 0.75 mi walk back to school....oh silly silly girl. My umbrella was no match for this obvious attempt by a higher being to make me as miserable as possible. It was a success. 20 minutes later I arrive back in lab and proceed to spend the next four hours sitting at my desk in wet pants, cold and frankly...a bit bitter. I spent the day harboring a hatred for anyone who took this opportunity to tell me how much they "love the rain!" I hate you, and your stupid rain. My only solice was the resolution that one day I will move to southern California, where it does not rain.

So, I have no picture of Sadie and Daisy with Santa. Instead I have wet jeans, wet socks and wet hair. Enjoy a non-holiday themed picture of them instead. This picture did not require me to sacrifice all joy from my day. Santa pictures to come....maybe...

as requested...

...jordana wanted me to blog. no, jordana insisted that i blog. insisted repeatedly that i blog...even evoked college memories of blogging "i loved your livejournal, and this will be just as fun." So here it is...a cyberspace hideaway corner where i can share the rambling thoughts that come in and out of my head on a daily basis with the rest of the world...ready? GO!