The Office of Sisyphus

In the move and shuffling around I lost my office. My writing room.

Oh, don't be sad, that space is now an awesome closet. Because, clothes. And, shoes. And, scarves. And, hoodies. I could go on and on but I'd like to think you get the gist.

When touring a friend through the 'new' closet she said, "But, where are you going to write?"

Brighter. And, yet, soul sucking.

My heart skipped a beat. I knew where I was going to write. I was moving down to the recently vacated actual office. With the built in shelves and crazy ass purple walls. And ceilings. The ONLY room I hadn't touched. 15/16 rooms painted. Some more than once.

It was time. To paint.

I couldn't write in there. It was too dark. Dreary. Sad.

First thing, I have to brighten up that ceiling. White. Ceiling white. It's a thing. I really like the ceiling paint that goes on pink and dries white. It's really handy so that you know where you've been and don't miss a spot. Turns out with a purple ceiling, it's hard to miss a spot. Four coats later, that ceiling wasn't purple any more. I couldn't move my shoulders but, that ceiling is white.

For the walls I wanted gray. A nice relaxing gray. Started painting. Kept painting. I didn't have to be terribly careful as I had to repaint the trim and the crown and the built ins. Really, all the things. Painted.

Four coats. Of one coat guarantee paint. There must be some fine print there that I missed. Because, four coats.

I was sitting on the couch in the living room, looking through the doorway into the office, thinking of all my hard work. Looking at my nice relaxing gray walls. That are baby blue. Baby. Blue. Not relaxing. At. All.

It looked terrible. Truly.

All the paint.

I ran off to the hardware store. Grabbed every sample of gray paint they had. Freshened up a small patch of the trim so it was bright white and started taping all the gray samples to the wall. There was a clear winner. The perfect gray.

Started again. This time only two coats.

Then the trim. The crown. The shelves. Hours and hours and hours.

I got to hopeless. I actually stopped. I took days and days and then weeks off of painting. I avoided the room. Forget writing in there. I didn't even step in there.

Forget Sisyphus and his rock. Staci and her paintbrush is now right up there with Greek Mythology.

And, now... I love that room. I leave the lamp on just so I can admire it from other rooms. I sit at the desk. It's so relaxing. It's cozy. It's becoming a favorite place.

Oh and that gray? I didn't notice in the frantic gray sample pulling. But, that color? It's called 'Tin Man'.

Me and that Tin Man, we've got a lot in common.

Feel free to review. If I Only Had a Heart.

Surely a novel can come out of this...

What the... why?

I find myself saying that a lot.

What the...?

I can't say want I want to say because there are children around, so I censor.

Sometimes.

I'm not going to lie and say the children haven't heard some words.

From time to time.

But, seriously. Why? I think it and say it. All. The. Time.

The kids. They come in. They shed belongings. Shoes. Backpacks. Jackets. All over the middle of the kitchen.

Seriously? Is school that exhausting? So tiring they can only carry their belongings two feet into the house?

They shed and leave items. Wherever. They just leave it.

A random sock in the middle of the staircase.

A half eaten cookie behind the coffee maker.

Glasses. Bowls. Plates. Under the bathtub. True story. Completely f***ing true. 

They can't seriously think it's a good idea. Right?

They aren't dumb. Pretty smart, in fact.

Tonight was a bowl in the dishwasher. Right side up. Still had cereal in it. Now, I know they know better. After a quick friendly chat (really) it was corrected. But, seriously. What the... why?

Do they think I'm dumb? I almost always catch them in their shenanigans. Maybe they are hoping for that one time... and they'll win? Because it they want to go competition mode, I'll step up my game. BIG.

Am I being tested? Have I lost a bet with God?

Likely.

Goodbye Earl

I haven't really written much about our European adventure as I am still processing. It was an amazing whirlwind trip. We quickly moved through five countries. Or I should say, we ate, drank and laughed our way through five countries.

And then today, a song came on the radio. I was quickly transported to a sketchy karaoke bar in Paris. Bangkok Karaoke.

I sing. Not well.

So, here's the thing. I can't sing. Well, not true. I can physically sing. I know the words. (To all the songs.) I've been known to give a power concert or two hundred to my steering wheel whilst the people in the cars around me stare. But, suffice it say, I should pour all my focus into my day job. ALL of it.

We were in Paris looking for a bar to enjoy a glass of wine or two. Or maybe even a cocktail... We Yelped. Just around the corner from our hotel was a Thai restaurant, seems odd to hang in a Thai place in France but there wasn't much else close by and none of us were really in the mood to get a cab.

Bonus - karaoke.

We arrived to the place to what I would consider a shocked hostess and waitstaff. 10 Americans walk into a Thai Restaurant in Paris... there has to be a joke in there somewhere... They were out of most of the alcohol on the menu. We settled for some cheap wine and beer and a couple poorly made cocktails. We ate peanuts.

I started to wonder if this wasn't a money laundering joint.

I pictured them in the back, "I don't know! Figure out the karaoke machine! These Americans want to sing!'

We sang all the karaoke standards. Sweet Caroline, Rockstar (hey, Nickelback mostly sucks but they do have some catchy hooks), Your Love by the Outfield and some Patsy Cline for good measure. And then, my karaoke go to: Goodbye Earl.

As the song started, my newfound and lifelong (hopefully he agrees!) friend, Jay, quickly made his way up on stage announcing it was now a duet. The Dixie Chicks Fly CD was the only CD in his car. He knew all the words to all the songs.

She held Wanda's hand as they worked out a plan
And it didn't take 'em long to decide

That Earl had to die, goodbye Earl
Those black-eyed peas, they tasted alright to me, Earl

And that is how a retired school counselor from South Carolina and a 40 something engineering director from the Pacific Northwest brought a little country to France.

In a Thai restaurant.

B-I-N-G-O

We walked into the bar. Dark. Low ceilings. The bartender, June, took one look at us in the doorway and loudly announced, 'We only serve beer and wine."

The four of us were standing there clearly looking ready to order a round of cosmos or lemon-drops. Or whatever fresh organic fruit martini they may have on special.

But, no matter. No cocktails? That's okay. We may look like cocktail girls, but, we can hang.

Rainer on tap (for incredibly low prices)? Cool. Michelob Ultra in a bottle? We're in.

We had a purpose. We were there for bingo. Rock and Roll Bingo. We had a chance to win tens of dollars. Not our original destination but while waiting for a table at our favorite breakfast place we saw the ad in the paper. What is Girls Weekend if not adventurous? And, set at a bar with the word 'shack' in the name... how can you go wrong? You're going to find adventure whether you mean to or not.

After we sat down we were informed that they were on a limited menu that night. No pizza. Because the band. I'm not sure what one has to do with the other but... okay. No pizza. It wasn't a vegetarian friendly menu either but I ate a grilled cheese and a bag of chips and washed it down with a Mike's Hard Lemonade. Felt like a reasonably solid meal. Plus, we were there with a purpose.

To win.

There were a few regulars in the place. They were watching us closely as we poorly played shuffleboard. And laughed.

The band was warming up. The term band may be a little generous. Just two guys. Drummer and guitar player/singer. Not good, per se. But, fun. They knew their role: play songs people know, people sing along and have fun.

The bar got busier. With a crowd that seemed like it came straight out of Central Casting. It seemed they all took a minute to stare at us. One of these things was not like the other.... 

The band played a lot of hits. When Doves Cry followed by Scrubs. It's pretty safe to say they aren't locked into a particular genre. Nor do they care. And, oddly, they didn't know, Don't Stop Believin'... but, per our request they played it. Which sounded an awful lot like Scrubs with the Don't Stop Believin' lyrics. During each song they would stop singing and call the bingo numbers. We were warned early that the bingo set came from Walmart and there may be duplicate numbers. And, there were.

We started chatting with other folks in the bar. The mother and girlfriend of the singer,

Not winning. 

the lady who brought cupcakes for everyone as it was her birthday and she didn't have any other plans.

Turns out the limitations of beer and wine didn't please the band. They wandered out during their breaks to enjoy some tequila in the parking lot. Because, why not?

And, as our focus was fun and adventure, perhaps a couple of us joined them. Where else can you listen to a band and drink tequila in a parking lot with strangers?



We laughed. A lot. And, there were a couple winners in our group.

Not me.

I'm good at a lot of things but bingo isn't one of them. Fortunately laughing and drinking tequila is.