Concerning Spoons and Bassoons

At little impromptu meeting this morning:

Big Boss: So, how many are enrolled in that class you're teaching next Monday?
Me: ::gulp:: (What? Huh? Me teaching? Quick, say a number...) Er.
Big Boss: You know, the one over at Corporate Commons? You're doing a GIC demo (said with an expression clearly conveying the idea of "you scheduled it, blondie").
Me: Duh, yeah, of course, naturally. Psh, GIC demos are like, nothing. Kind of like antipasta. Get it? Antipasta? Ergh.
Big Boss: What?

I feel better, but I still occasionally sound like somebody tried to convert a sitar into a bassoon-like wind instrument. If the analogy isn't immediately crystal clear to you, it means that I'm still coughing, c'mon people, get it together. Oh I see. That analogy also works if one is attempting to describe the result of a string bikini-wearer eating too many beets (if you know what I mean), so I understand if you were a little bit confused.

According to my horoscope, today will be an enlightened day of creative energy and ingenuity. If this blog post is an indication of what's in store... I'd better get that Ritalin prescribed and procured earlier rather than later. There's some sort of social dance lesson tonight, looks like American tango, so I'm sure to be entertaining if you want to be my partner. I don't have an inkling of what tango is like, and I really hope American tango won't screw up my future conceptualization of international tango, since I'm signed up to compete in it.

My lucky spoon has returned! A Groveling Lady came to my office this morning and confessed. Let me elaborate. I have a set of unique stainless steel silverware inlaid with brass flowers. I only have a fork, a knife, and a spoon, so it's a catastrophe if I lose a single member of this set. About three weeks ago, I noticed that the spoon had gone missing from the dishrack in the 5th floor kitchen, so I put up a sign telling anybody who'd seen it to please return it (clean) to the dishrack. This provides enough anonymity for the, ahem, thief, to return it to a communal place without any accountability or need to repent.

My assistant came into my office this morning (she relishes any drama, even spoon-related) and notified me of the appearance of the spoon in the dishrack. She told me that she hid the spoon in the back of the rack to keep it from the eyes of any other potential spoon thieves that may or may not be lurking about. I thanked her somberly for her forethought. Her answering nod dripped with ponderous dignity. I did not have the heart to tell her that she could have just as easily brought me the spoon. Not 5 minutes later, a lady came by my office to let me know that she had gone spoonless one day (gasp! so scandalous!), and had borrowed mine to eat her soup for lunch. The spoon had gotten buried under a pile of paperwork and had not been found until yesterday afternoon.

So, we've been reunited!