Ice cream and Anne

Who knew that shopping and ice cream could have such an effect on making a day better?  But when you're daydreaming over things like soft ice cream makers and muffin tins, how could you not have fun?  The good mood was threatened by an old memory at one point, but another bite of a Grasshopper shake from Iceberg solved that.  Man that shake was good.  In fact, I ate so much ice cream that I couldn't finish my dinner.  I guess Mom was right when she threatened that sweets would ruin my dinner.  Who knew?  But I felt so much better after that shake.  Thank you, Iceberg for having delicious, ginormous shakes for the price of a bite of ice cream at Dairy Queen.

I fell asleep on the couch around 11, and finally made it to bed a little after midnight.  Then I decided to sleep until I woke up.  7 am was a cruel wake-up time.  So I went back to sleep.  I woke up a couple of times between then and 9:30, but I felt so rested that I didn't complain getting up then.  Besides, I have a lot to do before I go to France on Monday.  (On that note, I don't know if I'll have Internet, so if I slack on my blogging, I hope you'll forgive me.)

It's amazing what a good night sleep will do for a mood.  I am quite happy today.  Also, I'm feeling rather productive.  I've spent the morning thus far (all two hours of waking time) cropping/fixing some pictures, cleaning up dinner last night, cleaning the living room, weeding one flower bed (though the others need it a lot more, as does my garden) and deadheading the pansies in three other flower beds, and watering my garden.  Oh, and I watered all of my plants.  I really need to post about my plants.  I've taken pictures of all of them, for your viewing pleasure.  I just need to get pictures of my happy flower beds.

Comparing yesterday to today, I can't help but quote Miss Stacey from Anne of Green Gables, "Tomorrow is a fresh, new day...with no mistakes in it."  Thank goodness for all of the tomorrows of life.  The promise of them sure does help make rotten todays more bearable and give something to hope for.

The little things

So, if no one guessed, I've been having kind of a rotten day. Y'know, just one of those days where everything goes wrong, so you start looking for things that are bad. So on the way to work I was thinking about how weird it is that when you're in a bad mood, you'd much rather wallow in misery than to try and be happy. So I decided that I should change my attitude and try to find happy things, despite my wanting to sit here and pout and glower at anyone who dares speak to me.

I signed onto my Gmail chat and my status from yesterday stared me in the face. "There is a God, and He loves me."

I'm grateful for little messages to remind me of reasons to be happy.

Moot whining

You know what else I hate?  That not everyone has the same taste buds that I do.

I've been meaning for quite some time now to make some sort of yummy dessert and take it up to Chillylint and Mama Sleuth to thank them for all of the wonderful things they have done for me.  I was reminded of that this morning and was bemoaning the fact that I didn't have time to make them something yummy.  In the meantime, I was eating the last bit of Praline Fudge that Heartless Siren had given me, in an attempt to comfort myself on the beginning early terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  When suddenly the brilliant thought hit me... I could stop at the Bookstore and buy some Praline Fudge for them because it is soooo good!  (Yes, that was said in a Teen Girl Squad Voice.)  And then I  bit into a nut.  And remembered that they don't like nuts.  And then I became grumpy because how am I supposed to know what other people like when they don't like the things that I like?  And then I was grumpy enough that I decided to blog about it.  (Yes, I like to whine.  Get over it.  Misery loves company?)

And then I remembered that I'm not even going to SLC today, so this whole pity party session was pointless.

Dear Chillylint and Mama Sleuth ~ 

 Since I shall be in France all next week, I shan't be coming back to SLC for a couple of weeks.  But I promise I'll fulfill my promise of goodies someday.  Also, Chilly, don't worry about those pictures I asked for.  I don't think I'll see you soon enough as I need to send them to Humble Master... oh... yesterday.  Maybe I should work on that today.  Sorry Humble Master!  (Although I know he will never read this, cuz he's not a blog reading kind of person.  Just let it be known that I apologized.)

~ Dragon Lady

Racka Fracka

Know what I love about Google Reader?  If you edit a post, it doesn't make the post show up as new again.  Also, because it takes a little while to pick up that there's a new post, if you catch your mistake immediately, chances are, no one will read the typo.

Know what I hate about Google Reader?  If you edit the title of a post, it thinks it's a new post.  Thus, it shows up new and everyone knows that you can't spell the word "Heaven."  We'll see if I caught my second typo fast enough, or if y'all are going to get three posts about how wonderful Dark Chocolate Mint 3 Musketeers are.  Well, if you do, that's just how wonderful they are.  So take that.  :P

Heaven in a wrapper

Some of you may not believe me, but this, my friends, is Heaven. Dark Chocolate and Mint added to previous goodness. Thank you my friends at Mars for making me the happiest person eating a candy bar at this moment.

The Real Cost

Yeah... this hits where it hurts.

Makes me want to play Free Rice.

Overheard

Yesterday I was with Mom down at the Big Red Barn in Santaquin, picking up some apples for Dad. As we stood in line, I noticed that the lady in front of us seemed to know the cashier and they were gabbing and catching up. I didn't really pay any attention until I overheard the following:

Cashier: "So, where are you living now?"
Lady: "Rwanda. In Africa."

... !!!

That's just not something you expect to hear in middle of nowhere Utah, I suppose.

Sometimes I don't know my own strength

I suppose I was jealous of Yellow's strength, so I decided to test out my own.


Yup. I broke a butter knife cutting butter. It wasn't even frozen.

So maybe I'm weird

Last night I was sick, so my mom gave me a Sprite. I don't like carbonation, but I drank some anyway, because it helps me feel better. They put what was left (which was a lot) in the fridge last night. Today I am drinking it and it is entirely flat. Is it weird that I think it tastes so much better?

Logic

Why I shouldn't have so many friends according to The Heartless Siren...

Because then I get roped into Mary Kay facials when I really just wanna go home and do nothing.

Confession

I actually like McDonalds.

I had a double cheeseburger, small fry and a fruit and yogurt parfait for lunch. It cost just over $3.

I think I may buy a McFlurry on the way home today. I need ice cream.

Update on dishonored cows

The fabric store had the 6 7/8 yard peice of material. I did, however, have to wait in line for probably 20 minutes, with only one lady in front of me. But I'm grumpy today, so I shan't go into details. Tomorrow I probably won't even care.

Now, everyone just pray that 6 7/8 plus 2 will be enough.

Dishonor on fabric stores and their cows

Fabric stores and me are not friends. Every time I walk into one, my brain gets all swirled around. Also, they have all joined together in an effort to thwart me. I told Heartless Siren yesterday that I will never become a seamstress, simply because it meant I would have to go to fabric stores.

First, I do not have an eye for color. If you put a bunch of blues next to each other, I'm going to see a bunch of blues, and blues go together, right? Right! I would tell you that each of them match. Mom and Heartless beg to differ. Did you know there are a billion shades of blue and none of them match? This is the feeling I've been getting. Some have purple in them; some have green. Some are too dark or too light. But green, purple and blue all go together! That's what I think, anyway. This is why I should not pick out colors. Why do people think it's a good idea for me to come along and and pick colors? Why?! I think this must be punishment for something. Maybe for not doing dishes or lying about something or the other when I was 12. Really, I promise, if you think it looks good, I'm not going to argue.

Second, people who work at fabric stores don't think. Seriously. If Sister calls and asks if you have 10 yards of a specific kind of fabric, and you say yes and that you'll put it on hold, then you should have 10 yards of that fabric when I go to pick it up. Not three pieces of 2.4 yards, 6 7/8 yards, and 1 yard (that has a black smudge and a red stamp). Then if that person calls another store and asks if they have a piece bigger than 6 7/8 yards, and that other store says yes, they have an 8 yard piece, then for heaven's sake, that other store should have one 8-yard piece of fabric. Not 2 pieces of just over 4 yards each. Really, people. Is it that hard? So help me, if the 6 7/8 yard piece at the first store that is, once again, on hold for me has been cut or damaged in any way, I will burst into tears. (Such a threat, I know.)

Also, I'm required to go to more fabric stores next week. Please pray for me and my sanity. Also for the sanity of Mom who has to be in the fabric store with me, trying to make me make decisions.

Day of Not Simple

Yesterday was a day of Not Simple.  Perhaps I should explain.  Monday I stayed home sick.  Don't worry, I wasn't deathly ill or anything.  Rather, I was slightly nauseous, and sitting only made it worse.  So, instead of sitting at my computer all day, I stayed home so that I could get up and do something.  My kitchen and bedroom both thank me.  That meant Tuesday was effectively Monday.  

Around 10:15 I found myself waiting in line at the Wells Fargo in the Bookstore to deposit some checks and to get a money order.  There was only one person in front of me, but the wait took forever.  Finally, I gave up and headed over to the Dungeon where I helped my former coworker solve an error message they were getting.  I realized all too late, however, that Tuesday meant devotional, so I only had 30 mins to figure out what was going on.  In fact, I was only able to instruct them on a work-around solution instead of figuring out the real thing.

Next stop was lunch.  Olive Wood and I decided to go over to the Subway across from campus for lunch.  We got in there and there was only one lady in line.  Brilliant!  This would go so quickly.  WRONG.  The lady in front of us was ordering 9 different footlongs.  Luckily, we used that time in line to discover that they no longer did every sub as a $5 footlong, but only a select few.  So we had to change our choice of sub.  (Turns out we would have had to anyway... they were out of bacon, so a chicken, bacon, ranch wouldn't have worked.)  It finally became our turn and we happily placed our order of Oven-roasted Chicken Breast on a footlong Italian Herbs and cheese.  Turns out, they had no hot chicken out there.  They had to nuke it.  "I'll just take a couple of minutes."  7 minutes later, we were back in line.  Except the line had grown a lot, so we had to squeeze in between people who were being helped while we waited.  Somehow, our sandwiches got mixed up with the girl in front of us, so we were ordering our veggies across each other.  This wouldn't have been so bad, except the worker in front of me who was supposed to be helping the girl in front of us had no idea what was going on (I'm also fairly convinced that she's new to Subway and hasn't had the greatest training).  It was rather comical.  Let's not forget the boy who was helping us, then turned away to sneeze on his hands.  Don't worry, dear friends, he immediately took off his gloves and washed his hands.  But instead of coming back to finish our half vegitized sandwhich, he started ringing another girl up at the register.  Soon the lady helping the people behind us caught up and started surpassing our sandwich.  You could tell she was frustrated with the other workers (At one point I  heard her say, "We are struggling today, guys!  C'mon!" who seemed to be off in lala land somewhere.  Also, please note that the clueless girl who had been helping the girl in front of us was now just standing behind the frustrated lady, looking around as if she had no idea what to do next.  Finally the frustrated lady pointed out that our sandwich was only half finished, so it finally got finished.  Frustrated lady was the one to check us out.  "What kind of sandwich did you have?"  "Oven-roasted Chicken Breast."  "Finally, huh?"  We smiled and laughed.  I rather felt sorry for her and the other lady who knew what they were doing and had to deal with the others who didn't.  I'm glad I wasn't in a hurry and that I had worked at a restaurant before, because, despite the 30 minute wait in line, I was able to empathize with her and not be frustrated.

I still needed to get the money order, so I stopped at Harmon's on my way to work.  Turns out you have to have cash to get a money order.  I definitely didn't have that much in cash, so, thwarted once again, I went to work.

I got to work only to walk into a mess.  Through unknown reasons, our books that had been processed weren't actually releasing into a form where we could load them.  So we had 64 books that were hanging out somewhere in cyberspace limbo.  I quickly put a stop to our site trying to release any more books and started sending out emails, trying to figure out what the problem was, and to fix it.  Problem is, that's typically not my job.  It belongs to another lady who is currently on her honeymoon.  I sent her an email that basically said, "You may never go on vacation again."

While I was making dinner later that night, Heartless and I were talking and she said something that didn't make sense to me.  In trying to clarify, I wasn't very clear and she couldn't understand what I was trying to clarify.  It ended in a giant case of miscommunication where I could see what both parties were trying to say, but no one could see what I was trying to say except me.  I finally gave it up as a lost hope.  (I still stand by my opinion, but really, what's the point of arguing over pepperoni?)

Tuesday is Ticket to Ride night with my family.  We play online.  It's a beautiful way to have Family Time, even when we're spread over three states.  I had the clear lead the entire game.  By the end, I was an easy 20 points ahead of everyone else.  Then Brother had to come in at the last minute and steal my longest train.  Then Mom came out of nowhere with her completed trains and blew us all out of the water.  I was sure I had a guaranteed win, and ended up in third place.

Seriously, Tuesdays should never be Mondays.

A linguist's delight

It is frequently brought to my attention that my vocabulary is far different than the rest of the world.  It's all normal in my head, though.  And things other people say are just weird to me.

For example, I say:

- jockey box  NOT  glove compartment

- I've been piecing at my fruit all morning  NOT  I've been pecking at my fruit all morning

- I mate my socks  NOT  I ... match?  pair? ...my socks.  (What do normal people say?)

- My hair needs brushed NOT My hair needs to be brushed  (though, for the record, I'm working that one.)

- pop NOT soda  (except, I'm almost completely converted to soda now... but only for fear of mockery)

- huzzay NOT hooray or huzzah.  (Though, that is on purpose and due to Heartless Siren)

Who says I always conform?

(Apparently it's things like this that linguists love, however.  I'm just giving them all thrills.  Eat your heart out, Katya.)

Love and carrots

So, I got a comment on my "I don't dance. Accept it." post that really made me think.

So, your motivations in life come from your fears, rather than your love. You try to avoid the stick, but you aren't so interested in the carrot?

My dear Anonymous, please let me clarify a bit. I am not athletic. I may be skinny and appear to be fit, but I am not. I ran the mile in high school in 12:34. I've been told people have walked the mile faster than that. Climbing a few flights of stairs will wind me. I am not a stranger to the stitch in the side. Also, although I have three brothers, they were all gone by the time I hit 8th grade. I am the youngest by almost 5 years. I grew up as the spoiled little girl and was never introduced to playing sports. Through Young Womens I would play ward basketball, volleyball and softball, but only because half of the girls were as non-athletic as I was, and were also my best friends. I still felt foolish doing poorly in front of all those people, but at least it was a group I had been playing sports foolishly with for years. Also, I was from a small town; I was expected to play in these sports. I would have drawn more attention to myself if I didn't play. Also, let's not forget the boy in my ward that I had a crush on who was always at the ward games. Anyway, I'm getting side tracked. The point is, I am not very talented at anything that requires physical exertion, especially if I have to do it in front of other people. Believe it or not, folks, I'm shy.

Please note the types of activities I listed in that post:

dancing
rock climbing
snowmobiling
wakeboarding
working out in public
singing in front of others

Every single one except the last one deal with some sort of physical activity that I have never done, and thus feel uncomfortable learning how to do in front of others. The last isn't so much physical, but still requires using a poorly-developed talent in front of others.

This does not mean that I'm not motivated by love. What part of wakeboarding says love? Nothing! It says using muscles that I have not developed to do something that people claim to be easy, only to not be able to do it and look foolish in front of everyone.

Dragon Lady: "So, I went rock climbing last night. It's actually my third time. I'm getting decent at it."
Brother Jr.: "Who's the boy?"

I had to laugh, because he was right. The only reason I ever went rock climbing was because Olive Wood, the guy I was dating, had been wanting me to do it for months and he finally convinced me to go with him. I went because I cared about him, and it was something that he really enjoyed doing. Yes, you could argue that love was my motivation.

Also, what about all of the other things I do because I love doing them? I've planted a garden for the third year in a row. I have at least 12 plants at home that I care for and one at work that I claim as my own. I love plants and watching them grow. This year I even started half of my garden from seeds in Spare 'Oom. What about playing Mario 3? Even going so far as to convince my aunt to let me borrow the "Strategy Guide" (aka Cheat Book) so that I could learn all of the tricks. What about the two full bookcases in my room? What about all of the wedding videos I have made for family and friends? What about writing for the Board? What about all of the traveling I have done? What about swimming in the Dead Sea? What about plucking out hymns because it relieves my stress, even if I'm not good at it? How can you say that I'm motivated by fear and not love? Oh sure, there are many things I don't do because of fear... I've become quite content to be the wallflower and spectator... but there are many things I do that I love, and even some I do despite my fears.  (Also, who says that being a spectator is bad? I actually enjoy watching Guitar Hero, thank you very much. Also, I believe basketball is quite fun to watch and horrid to play. If you want me to be happy, let me watch and don't make me play.)

Now, I've never heard the stick and carrot phrase... perhaps I'm out of the loop. I did grow up in a bubble, after all. But I think I've gathered what you meant. In fact, here is a definition from Yellow, in case anyone else in my readership didn't quite understand:

Stick = punishment, Carrot = reward
You do something out of desire to avoid punishment, rather than out of desire for the intended outcome
you do your homework in order to avoid failing, instead of to learn

This may be true to an extent (I definitely did my fair share of homework in order to not fail instead of out of a desire to learn), but I wouldn't say that's how I live my life. To be honest, I don't think the results of dancing can be considered a carrot. It's more like celery. It could make me lose weight, but tastes icky.

Is it such a bad thing that I don't like doing things that make me feel foolish? Is it such a bad thing that I thrive in the things I am comfortable with and love? That I expand my bubble a little at a time, doing things because someone I care about wants me to do them, or because I develop a desire to learn myself? Am I a horrible person because I am not athletic? Must every person in the world love doing athletic things? Can't I stick with the things that keep me active that I enjoy? Yes, there are some. I have recently taken to rock climbing. I rather enjoy hiking if the people I'm with don't mind if I go slow. I love walks. I'll climb a flight of stairs at work instead of taking the elevator. Please forgive me if I don't find pleasure in the things that the masses find pleasure in.

For the record, I went snowmobiling. I enjoyed it. I would even go again. Even though I destroyed my knee in so doing.  And yes, it still hurts.  Not nearly as badly as it used to.  I can even sit with my leg curled up under me now.  Progress!  And guess what?  I would still go snowmobiling again.  Because it was fun.  I just won't do any more jumps.  See?  I'll expand my bubble, just let me do it at my own rate.

So call me a stick in the mud if you will.  Believe that I'm a party pooper.  I don't care.  The people who know me best accept and love me for who I am, and really, what else matters?

Why I don't think Social Security is secure

Once upon a time, Mom set up bank accounts for all of us children.  Our bank statements had our SSNs printed on them, so whenever we needed to know our SSN, Mom would tell us to check our bank statements.  

One day, when I was in 8th grade, our class decided to go to the INEL (now INEEL) for a field trip.  The INEL is a nuclear testing site, and thus the security there is quite high.  In order to take a tour there, you have to give them your SSN.  Charged with finding out this information, I went home and asked Mom who directed me to my bank statement.  I sat there at the table, carefully copying my number from my bank statement to a sheet of paper to give to my teacher.  As I was writing, Brother Jr. walked by and happened to glance at my paper.  

Brother Jr.: "Why are you writing down my Social Security Number?"
me: "I'm not.  This is mine."
Brother Jr.: "No it's not.  It's mine!"
both: "Moooom!"

Turns out, it was my SSN. Brother Jr. had been using my SSN for the past three years without having any idea. All his SS earnings got put in my name. He went to school under my number. He got his driver's license with my number. (Which turned out to be the biggest pain as we didn't realize it until I went to get my driver's license and he was on his mission. "Sorry. You can't use that number. It's already in use." "Can you tell me if Brother Jr. is using it?" "Yes, he is." "Well, try this number [enter his number here]" "Sorry, you can't use that number. It doesn't match your name." "Well my number doesn't match his name either!") He went on his mission under my number. He even registered for the draft under my number. I could have been drafted at the ripe old age of 14.

This week I received a letter from the Social Security Administration, detailing my SS earnings. I couldn't figure out why from 1994-1996 I had earnings, but from 1997-1998 I had $0. Then in 1999, my earnings started up again. And then it hit me. I wasn't working to earn SS money when I was 11 years old. So, from age 11-13, Brother Jr. gave me money. Then we figured it out, and I was left with no earnings for two years until I was 16 and started earning my own Social Security benefits.

There was a number to call if my earnings were not correct. I called them. I figured it would be the honest thing to do, after all. They won't let me give it back! The only way for him to get his money back is to talk to the potato farmers of Idaho (one of which is no longer farming) to see if they still have their paperwork of 12-14 years ago, and ask them to refile with Brother Jr.'s real number. Brother Jr. decided this was not worth his time.

Thank you Brother Jr. for the $2,437 Christmas present that may or may not be there for me when I qualify for it.  That definitely makes up for the pain and agony I went through when I had to postpone getting my driver's license due to this silly mistake.

I don't want to hear anyone scoff and scorn when they find out that I actually pay to have my credit monitored.  If my dear, sweet brother can steal my number that easily without anyone knowing and without even trying, then imagine how easy it is for someone who is actively trying to steal my identity.  At least I came out on top with this one.

I don't dance. Accept it.

I was just listening to Dancing Through Life from Wicked and found one of my own life theories in there:

     Those who don't try
     Never look foolish

Ironically, I typically follow that theory in relation to dancing. But really, I incorporate it into many aspects of life. I fear looking foolish. Considering how likely that is in most things that I could do, it's much more simple to never try. Certain of my friends and loved ones have convinced me to do things that I would never do on my own. Things such as rock climbing, snowmobiling, wakeboarding, working out in public, singing in front of others, etc. However, before all y'all start rejoicing that I'm seeing the light, I cannot say that I didn't feel foolish doing a lot of that stuff. Rock climbing, for example, took me several trips before I started feeling even a semblance of comfort. Wakeboarding... hahaha. I never even got up! It took a lot of convincing to get me out there, and I only ever did it because it was Brother that was doing the convincing and he promised me that he'd be patient with me. He kept to his promise, but I still felt rather foolish that I simply could not get up. I did not go again the rest of the trip; rather, I found various excuses not to get back out there.

For those of you out there who are still trying to get me to go water skiing, sky diving, dancing, running, biking, dancing, or anything else that I don't feel comfortable with, please forgive me when I put you off and refuse to do such activities. I still love you and am grateful that you want to share your favorite things with me. And maybe if you're very persuasive, patient, and if I trust you enough, and you're willing to do said activity with just the two of us, and not in front of a group of people, I may be convinced. After a long period of time. But please understand...if I never try, I'll never look foolish. This is a very appealing thought to me.

Random and disconnected thoughts

It's entertaining when you're driving behind a really slow car and finally get around it, just to find that one of your former teachers is driving it.

Our kitties are spending their first full day outside today. I'm pretty sure Sonja is mad at me for this. Sir Guy and Drawly weren't sure what they thought either. It kind of breaks my heart for them. But it's a beautiful day. And we'll go out and play with them after work.

I found a place to move yesterday. I am much saddened to leave The Heartless Siren. And my baby kitties. But it's all for the best. Also, it's only a block or so away. It has already been decided that I will be back to do laundry and keep up my garden and feed Heartless yummy dinners. I will miss them, and I don't look forward to packing and moving. But I am excited about life after this.

I planted three flowers this morning while procrastinating going to work. They're called Cosmos and I grew them from seeds in my house, along with half of my garden. I've been wanting to plant these for ages. I decided this morning that planting three wouldn't take that much time. It didn't. Now I have 3 more that I need to decide what to do with. Anyone want to plant some flowers?


Tonight I plan on planting Morning Glory (the flowery happy stuff, not the overpowering weed), Forget-me-nots, peas, potatoes, carrots, radishes... and whatever else I decide is ready to plant.

I forgot my headphones out in my car today. This wouldn't be a problem except I also forgot my access card. So I can get out, but getting back in is a pain.

I made Hawaiian Chicken and a Caesar Salad last night. (With help, mind you.) All from scratch. Including the croutons and the caesar dressing. The dressing wasn't my favorite (anyone have a good recipe?), but the rest was fantastic. Also, I've decided I'm loving fresh garlic. The garlic press I bought is probably my favorite investment right now. I'm running out of garlic. I didn't think I would ever do that, since The Cold One left her enormous stash with me.

I was mad at my landlady for not cashing my rent check yet. I opened my check book last night and found the check still in there. Oops?

I need motivation to get to work on time. And more motivation to be highly productive while there. You know, don't blog and answer Board questions and the like. Any suggestions?

I'm supposed to be eating 5 servings of fruit and veggies per day for the next two months in order to get $25 off my insurance premium. I am consistently hitting 4 servings. I have yet to get 5. I'm thinking I'm about to the point where I shan't be able to accomplish this goal. I may just not do this challenge. This'll be good. Because then I don't have to worry about exercising 5 days per week for 30 mins per day for the next two months. I like this idea. But I'll keep eating fruits and veggies. Because I like them.

I bought a footlong Subway sandwich on my way to work today for lunch. (Because it's cheaper!) I'm not very hungry at all. This could be problematic.

Today is beautiful. Really, really beautiful. I am very happy today. :)

Wishing for the Rest of the Story

I use the same stall in the bathroom every day at work. One day, many weeks ago, I noticed in passing that there were three rolls of toilet paper. This made sense, though, since the one was half gone. Thus, I concluded that the janitor came in, saw the one half gone, took it off the holder, replaced it with a new one, and put the half-used one on top so that it'd get used first. Dutifully, I used the one that was already half gone. I really didn't think a thing about it.

Several days later, a fourth roll appeared. (Maybe I should mention that this is not a highly used bathroom at all. There are only a handful of women working in this building. But that number must have been larger at one point, since there are 8 stalls.) This seemed a bit odd, since there were plenty of toilet paper left. Why did they need to put another roll in? But oh well.

Several days later another roll showed up. Then another. Then another. Today I walked in and about laughed right out loud. There were seven rolls of toilet paper in my stall. This is getting quite ridiculous. I was curious now. Were the other stalls as bad? A quick look around informed me that between 8 stalls there were 45 rolls of toilet paper. I'm really hoping that this is some sort of passive-aggressive revenge between a janitor and her supervisor. (In my head this janitor is surely female.) I really just wish I knew the story behind it. I suppose I'll have to make up my own version. Also, I'm wondering what will happen when there is no longer room to balance rolls upon the holder and the back of the toilet. Will they start appearing on the floor? Someday, we shan't be able to walk into the bathroom... it'll be too full of toilet paper. I hope I can be here to see this day.