Why do people leave the bathroom door open just a crack after they've poohed? All other times, it's wide open and welcoming. Do they think the scent flushes away with the toilet? Because it does not. What does happen is that when I open the door to do my thing, I am smashed in the nose with someone else's left overs.
Proper bathroom etiquette: leave the door flung open and proud. Aeration is the key to downplaying what you have left behind.
I'll tell you one organization that knows proper etiquette...the IRS. If you were not one of the lucky millions who read my blog about the big tax showdown we had, I'll fill you in. There was a mistake made two years ago by the accounting firm of my previous employer. As a result, I was being told to pay the IRS one grand, plus interest. After a wee bit of stress, paperwork, the benevolent assistance of that employer, it was finally straightened out after several months.
And, OF COURSE, our fine, upstanding income tax governing officials sent the news that I had never lied in the first place, in a gift basket. Contents: chocolate covered sea salt caramels, spice drops, and a pastel colored Pashmina. They wanted to send a bottle of fine Italian Cabernet, but the Republican controlled Congress said no to free alcohol.
Those IRS folks so live up to their name: IRService. They just know how to serve the public. They do us proud.
Now that I've covered pooh and the IRS (funny how that fits so well in one sentence), I can get to what I really wanted to discuss. Facebook. Yesterday, my cousin with a sense of humor (I have more than one, so he'll have to figure out who he is on his own) posted a questionnaire that reveals whether or not you"re a nerd. If you get the jokes, you are one.
I got the jokes.
But, I've always known this about myself. Did I really need self-geek knowledge smacked into my face like trapped pooh scent?
Since we are one the subject of Facebook, here is my latest whine about that love/hate site that I can't get enough of: all of those stupid kids who are on there doing perfectly amazing things. Twelve year olds singing opera like the fat lady cliche, pre-teen sisters strumming guitars with half the talent of Eric Clapton, dancing children who could take on Micheal Jackson (if he was alive). I know I should be glowing with excitement each time I see this stuff, but the thrill is gone. What truly gets my nerdy, correct pooh etiquette mind going, is the people I encounter every day.
Here is the part where I reveal the cold hard core of my nerd nature: I think 'everyday' people are awesome and amazing. When you watch them unawares, there is beauty in their faces and movements. Listening to individual stories of childhood and current situations gives surprises and viewpoints that fill me with this settling of soulful bliss.
Where do I find these weirdos? A horde of them are co-workers. They know who they are.
Anyways, let's all take a moment to send the IRS a silent thank you for Heather's gift basket. Because, we all know they would never be unthoughtful.
Nerd With Chocolate Caramels