that's Ms. Pissypants, if you please
This morning I had a meeting pretty much as soon as I got to work, and then I had 8 minutes between the end of that meeting and the beginning of my next one. I had to pee urgently, so I rushed to the bathroom to do that. The only stall available was the big handicapped one (the largeness of the stall is pertinent), so I took it and commenced the peeing. However, when the person in the stall next to me exited, it jostled the door to my stall enough to cause my door to swing open. And you know how when you have to pee very badly, there's pretty much no chance of putting the brakes on it midstream, so I was trying to stop with the peeing and was pushing the door closed over and over as it swung my way, but with limited success due to how far the door is from the toilet. After a few pushes of the door I had to just get up and shut it, the result of which was [sorry--TMI] a few drops of pee on my pants. Awesome. Just really super. Thanks Universe! Fortunately these pants are super quick drying, so it was all dried in 5 minutes, and if anyone saw the spots they would assume it's water (or at least I would assume that if I saw spots on anyone else's pants), but my goodness, what an affront to my dignity. Also, note to self: Don't use the handicapped stall! That lock cannot be trusted.
Last night Francisco talked to his Field Training Officer about today's task (delivering police cars to the west side and picking up others to bring back), and confirmed that they were going to be in plain clothes. After he hung up I told him he should call back and ask the FTO what HE is going to wear, so they can plan to wear the same outfit, and do you know he would not do it. I keep giving him great ideas, and he keeps shooting them down. First he refuses to send postcards to the sheriff's office from police training school, with messages such as "Dear Mom and Dad, I'm having a great time at camp! Today we got to wrestle on mats and handcuff each other. The food is pretty good--especially the chicken fried steak. Say hi to grandma", and now this. If he listened to me he would be super popular, but he just wants to fit in and not make waves. He's going to get his own cruiser soon and he won't even put a hula girl on the dashboard! I also suggested that he make the entire inside of the glove compartment into a shrine for 70's Tiger Beat pinup boy, Leif Garrett, but he refuses. Sad.
This weekend we got fantastic fabrics for closet curtains, and I can hardly wait to see them hanging. The problem is that I now have to MAKE the curtains, and for some reason I'm feeling intimidated by the project. I'm pretty sure I'll get over it and get them made, soon, but I'm fighting some pretty major inertia just to get going. My kingdom for a little chutzpah!
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