Schizophrenia (the Weather's) and Other Assorted Ailments (My Own)

I started the day giddy. Ebullient. I walked my miles in an environment that did not include winds sufficient to tear my limbs from my body. No rain splattered me. When the sky began to lighten, I could tell there wasn't a cloud in it. An hour later, I left for work and my pea coat felt a bit much. Hmmm . . maybe the cute Sgt. Pepper's jacket could soon exit the coat closet!

The morning continued to be lovely. In the first e-mail exchanged, I confessed to nearly weeping as I drove to work in the spring. My phones jangled like they have not done in a very long time. It's obvious Mr. and Mrs. Las Vegas are thinking "spring cleaning time". I booked jobs until hell wouldn't have me any more and this thrilled me to the extent that I repeatedly radioed David to tell him that's what I was doing. Home dudes were so busy that every one of my war wagons was out on the road well utilized.

Across the period of one short hour, it all changed. The sun went, the clouds came. The rain came down in sheets. David appeared for a short while and we simply shook our heads at one another. Will it ever end? Is there some force of nature that has it in for our small carpet cleaning business?

The wind presented itself for a change. Its short absence obviously revitalized it. It sucked two gigantic sets of double doors in-and-out, in-and-out until I finally had to lock them. All of my paperwork threatened to be torn out the door and flung across Las Vegas.


The shingles on my barn roof began to flap just as the crabby Mr. and Mrs. Las Vegas emerged from beneath their bridge in order to dial my number. But they didn't flap loudly enough to drown out some really rude comments flung over the phone at me. My best e-mailing buddy flew off the radar for awhile and I was working myself into a snit. One doesn't want to contemplate me when I am being skunked at work by the weather again.

First, I paced. I tried to find music that would soothe rather than agitate. I pulled out some old, daunting, problem files to occupy me. Nothing worked well. I was working myself into a spin and I decided to try something. I sometimes use a set of mindfulness skills to decompress. Some of the activities can include "stop and feel your ribcage move as you breathe" or "look upon yourself right now to see just exactly what you are doing". I looked upon myself to see what I was doing . . . and I burst into a donkey laugh. For I was doing exactly what I do each and every day at a particular time. What the heezy else would I be doing? It made me want to challenge the bloggers to chime in on something that amuses me.

I like to laugh. I like to laugh at people. The person I like most to laugh at is me. I am made up of warts and bumps and scars and bruises and I am laughable. Some of my flaws don't need to be aired in my blog, but some of my obsessive compulsive stuff is funny. Occasionally I try to make deals with myself to try something different or break the cycle in some way, but mostly - if the behavior is not harmful - I'm really OK with being the OC nut job that I am.

So here's the challenge to the bloggers: Share something in my Comment section that you do obsessively for no good reason and that you really don't have much control to change. What is it that you do that makes you the quirky one you are?

Here's mine: This is what I was doing when I looked upon myself this morning. Of course it's what I was doing ~ it was 10:00! Every day of life I eat a cucumber. At precisely 10:00. Cut with the same knife, cut with the same series of knife strokes, cut in exactly the same way. I put a precise amount of red wine vinegar on the cucumber slices and apply the precise number of twists to the sea salt grinder. Could I eat a cucumber at 9:45 or 10:15? Certainly. But I'd still eat the one at 10:00.

The sun has returned. The wind has remained. The phones started up again. It's only Wednesday and this will already go down as our best week of the year so far. I stressed, I laughed, and I was reminded how funny we are ~ myself and those I like to connect with. All will be well.

In my ears right now: An old favorite! I wish I danced like Mellencamp. Alas, I do not.

Something that charmed me: Pinky and Blaze have a new sister. Meet Little Red.

Carpet Cleaner Humor

The technicians are required to keep in close contact with Mission Control. They have many freedoms out in the world and the balance is that we watch them move through the valley on GPS at all times. They must call in from every job at its beginning, tell us the value of the job and then report payment at the end. No exceptions.

When the company was young, we simply communicated by telephone. Everyone had a cell phone to call in on. But some of the home dudes didn't pay their bill, or had a plan that gave them too few minutes, or forgot their phone 3 days a week . . . OK, the company purchased walkie-talkies and required everyone to carry them. Every one of the men caught onto the walkie-talkie thing immediately. I was dumber than a box of rocks. They'd played army in their youth, I hadn't. I didn't like this device. For whatever reason, we used "handles" in the day and the technicians all took rodent-themed monikers. I named myself Dumb Bunny. I like to think none of them would have come up with that.

Then came the BlackBerries and it was miraculous ~ I was a whiz and they were a bit slower. David said, "Well, yeah, it's basically a computer and you're good at that." So the guys helped me with ringtones and I taught them what an Excel spreadsheet was. They showed me the navigation system and I showed them how to e-mail the digital video clips they take with their BlackBerries. It's reciprocal. It's nice. If you teach me this, I'll teach you that.

Rolling around in Las Vegas every day must be surreal. It is an odd place. It is peopled by the best and the worst sorts. We deal with them all. My technicians see things in homes that are enviable, disgusting, lovely, laughable. Once I had a home dude come off of his route, describe something he'd seen and ask me if I thought he should call Child Protective Services. They are offered everything from cold drinks to food, from handshakes to threats to throw them bodily off the property. They are flirted with and propositioned, insulted or asked if they can help a customer out because of hard times. Many radio transmissions include a comment or conversation about the amazing thing they've just seen or the odd situation that just occurred.

They are offered household items frequently. "Hey, Limes, would anybody want a black leather recliner?" "Have you heard of anyone who might want a kitten?" When we clean carpets for move-out, we often arrive at a point where the customer is willing to simply walk away and leave things behind. And traversing the city as they do, these guys see every yard sale there is.

Cesar and Matt finished a job and walked across the street to a yard sale. There Matt, 22, saw an item that so fascinated him, the seller said, "Take it for free, young man, and enjoy it." Returning to the van, Cesar employed his BlackBerry to send me a photo by e-mail, but didn't say a word to me. What I received at my desk:

As everyone else received the photo by e-mail, the radios began to buzz and we all became raucous. Soon I was informed that Matt had named him Pedro and Pedro was on the way in to the office. By the end of the day, I could see technicians shooting up the stairs - their workdays were over and they wanted to meet Pedro. We laughed until we nearly squirted milk out of our noses. A suggestion was made that we mount Pedro out on the barn that Troy built.

Here's Cesar posing Pedro on the barn:

We all cackled for days and visitors to our office were a bit startled at the sight of Pedro resting in a chair near my desk. We began to talk about how we knew we couldn't really put him out on the barn because the elements would quickly destroy him. So finally, Pedro was put inside the barn to lead a dark existence. He continues to startle everyone who goes to the barn for supplies or equipment - he's a pretty big boy and looks menacing in the dark.

My own private source of merriment: Matt is a young man with a brilliant mind. He's a good worker and a great salesman. He's an astounding artist. He is spiritual and both David and I have had many long, deeply philosophical discussions with him. But sometimes something will pop up - things he doesn't know about - that make one just go "What??" I attribute it to his extreme youth. So . . . Matt thought Pedro was a barnyard piggie and had to check in with me to see if the other guys were giving him the business about an animal called a boar. "No, Matt, it's true. Pedro is a boar. Barnyard piggies are pink and smell like baby powder. "

In my ears right now: the sweet warbling of my two birds and the Badger's pair of birds. Sometimes they just squawk. Right now they're lovely.

Something that charmed me today: the Badger's great placement in the race this morning; the strength and confidence he showed going into this race and coming out of it.