Mama Dog Gets Sick and Dapa Pog Tells Another Tale from the Office Men's Room
Mama Dog’s been too overloaded to keep up with blogging the last while, so I’ll do a small update for her (if she doesn’t mind). After what she described as a “mellow” first day at work, we had what looked on paper like a pleasant evening at home. Mama Dog made ravioli for supper and since it was still light out when we were done, we went on a family stroll with Baby Dog and Doggy Dog. Baby Dog went to sleep without too much fuss and we managed to watch another twenty minute increment of Oliver!. It was during that twenty minutes that the first hint materialised of things soon to go awry. Mama Dog started to feel a bit queasy. This is not an unusual reaction to the treacly singing voice of erstwhile child star Mark Lester, so we did not immediately take it amiss. Unfortunately, it got worse. Poor Mama Dog’s first workday night’s sleep was punctuated with unscheduled disgorgements. She had been feeling intermittently unwell since the American Fourth of July, and now it seemed to have come home to roost. By morning, it was clear that she was going to have to spend her second day on the job at home in bed. How fortunate that halmonie was here! It would have been a disastrous day for me to call in sick, for several different reasons. As it was, I was unable to leave the office until eight at night, and only made it home for Baby Dog’s bed time because she was reluctant to sleep and I cabbed back from the BART station.
After being sick as a mama dog all day, Mama Dog woke up feeling much better this morning and was able to go back to work with no harm done. Apparently it really was a 24-hour thing.
In other news – I didn’t really expect to let you hear from Dapa Pog twice in a row, but I could hardly ignore this anecdote he sends along:
“Why do so many of my work stories take place in the men’s room? So I was in there this morning, having a quiet ponder on the porcelain, when somebody burst in (to the bathroom in general, not to my stall) and strode rapidly over to the handicapped stall. He rummaged around in the stall for a minute, and evidently he didn’t realise the room wasn’t empty, because I heard loudly and clearly exclaim, “Why does it have to be so fucking hard?!” Naturally, the first question that occurred to me – and the same one Dama Mog asked when I told her this story – was “Is he talking about his job or his dick?” Striving always for discretion, I shifted about in an audible way to alert him to my presence. The handicapped stall went suddenly silent.
“I was finished my business, but curiosity* was keeping me glued to my seat. I hadn’t recognised the voice. It was pitched rather highly, and while there are only a few guys in the office of such elevated timbre, I couldn’t be certain which one it was. My first guess was A the Graphics Guy, but I couldn’t be sure. I tried to invent plausible reasons to remain in the stall after flushing. I blew my nose. I rattled change in my pocket. I inspected the bottom of my shoe. Soon, it became clear that whoever it was wasn’t going to leave the stall until I was out of the room. I washed my hands and left.
“This curiosity’s an ugly thing, though. I couldn’t let the thing drop. I went over to the lunch room and lingered there. As soon as I heard the men’s room door open, I came strolling out of the lunch room as though I’d been there all along. On the way, I passed D the Doughy American Guy, coming out of the men’s room, a jaunty smile on his well-fed puss. He flashed me a big smile and hello as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
“I was really quite surprised. To tell the truth, I didn’t even think D knew such language. I wonder what was up? So much goes on in the office that I don’t know about.”
___________________
*"And nothing else, happily. It’s a most hygienic bathroom."
After being sick as a mama dog all day, Mama Dog woke up feeling much better this morning and was able to go back to work with no harm done. Apparently it really was a 24-hour thing.
In other news – I didn’t really expect to let you hear from Dapa Pog twice in a row, but I could hardly ignore this anecdote he sends along:
“Why do so many of my work stories take place in the men’s room? So I was in there this morning, having a quiet ponder on the porcelain, when somebody burst in (to the bathroom in general, not to my stall) and strode rapidly over to the handicapped stall. He rummaged around in the stall for a minute, and evidently he didn’t realise the room wasn’t empty, because I heard loudly and clearly exclaim, “Why does it have to be so fucking hard?!” Naturally, the first question that occurred to me – and the same one Dama Mog asked when I told her this story – was “Is he talking about his job or his dick?” Striving always for discretion, I shifted about in an audible way to alert him to my presence. The handicapped stall went suddenly silent.
“I was finished my business, but curiosity* was keeping me glued to my seat. I hadn’t recognised the voice. It was pitched rather highly, and while there are only a few guys in the office of such elevated timbre, I couldn’t be certain which one it was. My first guess was A the Graphics Guy, but I couldn’t be sure. I tried to invent plausible reasons to remain in the stall after flushing. I blew my nose. I rattled change in my pocket. I inspected the bottom of my shoe. Soon, it became clear that whoever it was wasn’t going to leave the stall until I was out of the room. I washed my hands and left.
“This curiosity’s an ugly thing, though. I couldn’t let the thing drop. I went over to the lunch room and lingered there. As soon as I heard the men’s room door open, I came strolling out of the lunch room as though I’d been there all along. On the way, I passed D the Doughy American Guy, coming out of the men’s room, a jaunty smile on his well-fed puss. He flashed me a big smile and hello as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
“I was really quite surprised. To tell the truth, I didn’t even think D knew such language. I wonder what was up? So much goes on in the office that I don’t know about.”
___________________
*"And nothing else, happily. It’s a most hygienic bathroom."
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 10:58 PM
1 Comments:
I've been a little worried about MD and her new job - so sorry to hear that she was ill, but glad she's feeling better!
Post a Comment
<< Home