Gonna do it…

I’m gonna go gonzo on all, y’all. It started today at lunch.

The girls and I were all done with our conference calls, meetings, chats, etc. We were hungry! It was way past our lunchtime, and our bellies were grumblin’! I walked back to my desk to deposit the laptop-that-refused-to-connect-to-wireless-from-an-enclosed-conference-room. D* was just walking past my office when she turned around and noticed that I was halfway down the hall and coming right towards her. “I’m going to nuke. Do you have to use the micro-wait?” I replied, “Yep, I just need to drop this stuff off.” I made the mistake of plugging in my laptop and logging back on before heading to the kitchen. DUMB! Of course, I just have to check my email. After all, I logged in and what would be the point of not looking at it because then I wouldn’t be able to chastise myself after the fact?! “Uhh…” “Are you doing lunch?” I look up and HD walks in. “Yeah, let’s go. I have to nuke.” I need to make sure I have my badge, and then I head off to the kitchen (finally).

“Uhh…” There’s a line for both micro-waits. I make my way to the refrigerator to pull out my ratty, old pink polka-dot lunch bag. I think I know whose microwave dinner is in the better of the 2 micro-waits. I walk over to the counter, unzip my polka dots, and pull out my favorite Velveeta shells & cheese. The micro-wait shows about 2 more minutes. I rip off the top of my shells & cheese and fill it up to the line with hot water. Well, that took all of 10 seconds. The micro-wait shows about 1:49 now. I put the micro bowl down next to my bag and wait.

I see K coming down the hall. She walks in the door. “K, is this your lunch?” “Yep.” I say, “Hurry up.” Just kidding! Looks like we’re down to less than a minute, and then it’ll be my turn. Cue Jeopardy music.

Ding! K takes her lunch out and I immediately swing in behind her to nuke my shells & cheese. I press 3-0-0 and Start. You know how they say a watched pot never boils? Well, lukewarm water in a microwave container with pasta shells doesn’t really boil very quickly when you’re standing right next to the micro-wait for 3 whole minutes. Meanwhile, K starts to stir up her wonderfully aromatic Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes (at least that’s what I think it is). “Is it still cold?” “Yes,” she says. “How long were you supposed to heat it up?” “It says 3 minutes, and then another 2 minutes.” I feel bad now for practically pushing K out of the way just so I could cook my shells. “Here, go ahead and heat it back up.” “No, that’s ok. I can wait.” That K is an angel! She sacrificed her frozen meal for my shells. I could have hugged her! Instead, I waited another minute and a half by the micro-wait.

Ding! “I’m done, K.” I stir my cheesy sauce pouch into my shells and wish that I would freaking remember to buy some Red Hot at the grocery instead of passing by the shelves and thinking to myself that I wouldn’t really use that little bottle while I’m eating lunch at work. STUPID! “Meet ya downstairs, K.” She still has a minute and a half left in the micro-wait. That could’ve been me. Hey, someone has to go keep D company downstairs…

*Names have been abbreviated to protect the innocent.

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