Time Management

Today something I saw at the office that caught my attention and caused me to rise from blog death.

The student employees work in an open area where there are four long desks with about eight or ten work stations each. There are no dividers and no privacy (that's not a problem because unlike last year, there is actually space now, and it's convenient for socializing with coworkers). What that means is that when someone is doing something out of the ordinary, everyone knows about it. Today I heard a buzzing noise and turned around to witness a coworker shaving his face with an electric razor. He was staring intently at the computer, using the mouse with one hand and shaving his face with the other.

It made me think that I've obviously been misusing my time. I have compiled a list of things that I have foolishly been doing on my own time that can now be brought into the office.

Brushing teeth: No longer will I waste time brushing my teeth at home! With very little preparation (a rinse cup and a spit cup) I can now brush my teeth at my desk!

Blow-drying hair: When sockets abound at work, why waste my own electricity and precious personal time making my hair look perfect? Instead, I can bring my hair dryer to work, plug it in, and blast away for a few minutes while I read correct grammar on the computer screen.

Waxing legs: I have never done this, but now that I have four paid hours every day to attend to my personal hygiene, I may as well start. Think of all the work I can get done while I wait for the wax to harden sufficiently!

Pedicure/manicure: Again, what better time to attend to this than when I'm already planning to stay in the same spot for four hours? At the beginning of my shift, I can do my toes, then work on my fingernails. For the rest of the time, as long as I'm careful typing, I can the enamel dry perfectly.

Bleaching my mustache: This is something I've only ever done once, morally supporting a friend who realized that she needed it after seeing this picture. But now, why not do it again?

I believe that the personal care possibilities are endless. And in the spirit of office unity and camaraderie, when someone asks, "Pass the epilator, please," I will reply, "With pleasure."

Holy Crap

This is one of my favorite stories ever.

My freshman year, I lived in Deseret Towers. For those who don't know, DT are towering dorm buildings that have about forty girls per floor. Each floor also has two bathrooms, with a few shower stalls and a few toilet stalls and several sinks.

One day, we all had to get together for a mandatory floor meeting at which several things were to be discussed. During this meeting, our Residence Assistant said the following:

"I don't know how it is in the other bathroom on this floor--" (she lived on one side of the floor, so she didn't use the same bathroom that I did) "--but in our bathroom, girls are leaving their crap all the time."

I had a horrible image of girls not flushing That Which Should Be Flushed and started looking around to see who all lived on that side of the floor and figuring out who among them would be a non-flusher. The RA continued:

"There's crap left in the stalls. There's crap in the showers. There's crap all over the sinks."

I was absolutely horrified. This was not a matter of non-flushing. This was absolute, deliberate, utter filth and I wanted to know who on that side of the floor was doing it, and why the first time I heard about it was at a floor meeting.

And as I sat, trying to judge my neighbors, someone started to laugh. And then someone else started to laugh. One by one, those who'd been confused began to realize that by "crap," our RA meant "stuff."

Crime and Punishment

When I am a parent, I want to find appropriate punishments for my children when they misbehave. You need to find a punishment that fits the crime and that teaches the child why what he or she did was wrong. I think one of the greatest examples of this was what my freshman roommate's mom did to discipline her ten-year-old son.

He had been caught at school writing profanities on the walls of the school in permanent marker. Not only was he writing these profanities, he was misspelling them. As punishment, his mother made him write (and spell correctly) profanities all over his own bedroom walls. Then, he had to live in his defiled room for a week. After the week, he had to completely repaint his room so that there was no trace of the profanity.

I think that this was brilliant. It taught the boy the following:

1) The importance of correct spelling, no matter what the circumstance.
2) The fact that profanity on walls makes a place ugly, and it is unpleasant to have to live in a place so defiled.
3) The fact that it takes a lot of work to clean up that sort of vandalism.

Daltongirl, I wish you the best of luck finding appropriate punishments for your children's sins.

Can I pique your interest?

I'm editing a course right now. I came across a sentence that talked about "peaked interest." Of course, I changed it immediately to "piqued," but then was interested to know if the majority of people use this correctly or incorrectly. Please review my google results:

"peaked her interest" = 455
"peaked his interest" = 965
"peaked their interest" = 857,000

"peeked her interest" = 428,000
"peeked his interest" = 342,000
"peeked their interest" = 238,000

"piqued her interest" = 27,000
"piqued his interest" = 45,300
"piqued their interest" = 18,900

This is fascinating to me, and I'm comforted to know that this should also fascinate some of my readership. Why such low numbers of "peaked interest" compared to "peeked interest"? If I had to choose between those incorrect forms, I would always choose "peaked." And why does "peaked their interest" yield more hits than any of the others? Especially when "peaked her interest" and "peaked his interest" yield such low results?

Ideas? Hypotheses? Too bad I'm not taking any more Elang classes; I could do a study.

Out with the Old, In with the New

The Boy left me. This is sad on many levels. I absolutely loved living with him. Sure, we had our moments, like when we argued over who was leaving the toilet seat up (I may mention that for the last six months, I swear it's only been left up once) or when I talked to him about eating the ingredients I had bought for recipes and I talked to him about eating the ingredients I had bought for recipes and I talked to him about eating the ingredients I had bought for recipes. I guess he never quite got that. But who am I to complain? He's kept me supplied with Crystal Light for the past nine months. And he's done really sweet things. Take the other night for example.

I was in bed with the window open, listening to the creepy sounds outside my window. This used to be a bigger problem when he was working the night shift and I was all alone. Last summer, I finally realized that the "footsteps" I was continually hearing was actually the sound of the trees hitting the shed beside my window. But the other night, as I tried to convince myself that the creepy noises were just the trees, I began to realize that the creepy noises were not the trees. There was something alive outside my window. And it was moving.

I sent him a text message: Come here.

Seconds later, he was in my room, and of course, the creepy noises had already stopped. But, being the brave man he was, he said he'd go out and investigate. "I'm just happy I have this!" he said. I expected to see him with a gun, a baseball bat, or even a golf club, but he was wielding a flashlight.

I heard him go outside and around to the side of my house where my window was. And then I heard a cat meowing. He found the culprit. But then instead of just shooing the cat away and coming back into the house, he did a full circuit around the house, inspecting the back yard, too, to make sure that there were no other unwelcome guests. He's a sweetie.

(Another reason I'll miss him: The other night, I saw him coming home. I was sitting in the living room with the lights out. I went to the door and waited for him to come in. He opened the door and I jumped at him and yelled. The look on his face was one of sheer terror, but it was nothing like the look on my face when he immediately punched me in the boob. He had no idea what he was doing, but it was the fight of his fight-or-flight instinct.)

I have replaced The Boy with a roommate I'll call Redrass. I'll call her that until 1) she discovers my blog and 2) she demands that I change it. Redrass is a friend of mine from class this past semester. We had three of our Tuesday-Thursday classes together, so we ended up spending a fair amount of time together. She is one of the very few people who I've met in class and chosen to hang out with outside of class. She's simply cool enough.

So welcome Redrass and goodbye The Boy.