“Remoted” – Day 536 (Friday)

The sun was out and the workday was the last one before a long weekend. The day's goal was declared -- to make it through the next nine hours without blowing a gasket. This is not a new goal, and mostly a repeat of the same goal set nearly every day.

While in the bathroom readying for the day, an open jar of face moisturizer somehow went sailing from the counter to the floor, spewing about a month’s worth of the precious dry-skin battling contents. Luckily, the container was a non-breakable material. The tile was easy to clean up and the rug is now sufficiently moisturized. The grumbling was limited to, “Well, it could have been worse,” while mopping up the mess. The first hiccup was handled calmly, an important step towards the don’t blow a gasket goal.

During the enjoyment of a pre-workday cup of coffee, peace and tranquility was interrupted by a robotic voice from the ceiling proclaiming “low batteries” which sent Winston scurrying out of the room in a panic and nearly spilled my coffee in my lap. The announcements had started around 1:00 am on Thursday and repeated every several hours, but I couldn’t figure out which of the many units was issuing the SOS. With two detectors in the upstairs landing, two on main level, and two in the basement it is usually a treasure hunt to figure out which needs attention. This morning, I was under the needy detector when it screamed for help, and paused the relaxing to put in new batteries. That’s when I learned the living room detector is for both smoke and carbon monoxide. I never took the time to read all the lettering on it when replacing batteries. It's amazing what you can learn when you pause for a second.

Overdone, but still tasty.

After the detector detective work, it was time for breakfast. There was some leftover Finnish pulla bread that had gotten a bit dry, making it perfect for toast. The remainder of the loaf was sliced and set in the toaster oven, but after one cycle it was still a bit anemic. It was put back in for “just a little longer” when Winston needed to go outside. The return from the back yard, less than a minute later, was met with smoke creeping from the toaster oven door, suggesting that perhaps it had now been “too long.” The bread was a bit beyond well done and jogging towards charcoal briquet. Oops. Swiped with butter, it still tasted good. Stuffing my mouth with toasted pulla kept me busy enough to not be irritated. 

Once logged in at work, I misread the part of an email where I was supposed to take action, and only saw the part where no action was needed. I cast it aside and moved on to other things. Several hours later, when someone from the next step in the process asked about the status, I realized what had happened. Danggit. It was fixed and apologies sent. I really hate when I screw up and it affects someone else.

The other night when it was cold and rainy, I made soup, but then I didn’t feel like eating it and packed it all away in the freezer. This greatly minimized the lunch options for today. It was ramen for the win, based on speed of preparation and the fact there are still about a dozen bricks of it in the cabinet from the time I accidentally bought two cases and even after bringing one case to my sister's house. Even with the uppity haute cuisine addition of mushrooms sauteed in butter, the ramen was faster than dealing with a frozen block of the homemade soup.

Overall, despite the minor fumbles and hiccups, the goal of not blowing a gasket was achieved. With success declared, it’s time to celebrate, maybe with a nice glass of wine. I forgot to cancel the wine club order after barely touching the last delivery, and the fine folks at Fed Ex informed me that a new case will be arriving tomorrow, so I need room.  Too much wine on hand sounds like the best scenario possible.