November 14, 2005

The Secretary is IN/OUT?

Ever since we left our old church building in Sayville, Long Island NY, the office has been set up right next to my laundry room on the first floor of our split-level home. All the equipment is in order and matters are dealt with in a timely way, but somehow, things just aren’t the same as they once were.
I’m sure you can imagine how it must be to work on the computer all day next to a pile of laundry left over from Camp Shiloh, including a duffel bag full of wet towels, muddy hiking boots and culottes. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out where on earth the musty smell was coming from as I sat at my computer typing one day. When I finally realized it was the duffel bag, I threw out the shoes, washed the towels and culottes, coated the duffel bag with Lysol, and spent the rest of my morning sneezing and trying to type through bleary, watery eyes.
Our little white dog, Mr. Higgins, soon showed up next to my chair barking and whining incessantly for me to let him outside where the air didn’t smell like disinfectant mixed with mildew. I could sympathize with the poor little guy. So I ran with him up two flights of stairs and attached him to his leash so he could go outside and get some fresh air. Two more flights of stairs later I was back at my desk and ready to “dig in.” But Mr. Higgins didn’t appreciate my sacrifice of time. His furry white face and black, round eyes appeared at the large window just above my computer screen, barking and whining for me to let him in. I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn’t let me—the little rascal. He kept whining and pawing at the window, cocking his head to the left in sincere bewilderment as to why I wasn’t coming to his rescue—he was a constant distraction that had to be removed. Back up two flights of stairs I went to let him off the leash and back into the house where he promptly plopped himself onto a sunny spot on our living room floor. What a life!
I wanted to go back downstairs to work in the office, but the phone rang and I made a serious mistake—I answered it. Answering the phone is not normally a problem, but this phone has a cord, giving me two feet to move in every direction. Thus I was “trapped” for twenty-two minutes, unable to talk while I typed, which is my usual way of doing things. (How’s that for multi-tasking!?) When I finally hung the phone on its hook, Mr. Higgins was at the back door, pawing at the glass and wanting to go out...
Somehow things just aren’t the same as they once were in the office. I’m sure it’s not too hard to imagine why...

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