Just another day in the life

I’m sure there are people who literally blog about their everyday life.  Like a diary.  Like a journal.  They probably post some sort of new blog everyday regardless of whether they’ve actually done anything on that particular day worth blogging about.  I’m not going to do that.  I promise.  If for no other reason than a daily blog about what I’ve done on that day would be nothing more than a grim reminder of how pointless my day has actually been.  I know how pointless most of my days are.  I don’t need to share that with others.

HOWEVER. . . . if I were going to do that (and remember I’m not) here’s what my daily blog would look like.

Monday, January 11, 2010 –

Alarm clock went off at 5:30 AM.  Hit the 10-minute snooze bar nine times (that’s right, nine times, what, is that a problem?).  Got out of bed at 7:00 and drove to the YMCA.  Lifted weights for an hour.  Almost curled as much as the 70-year old man who was one weight station in front of me.  Showered and went downtown to meet my superintendent to do a production check on one of my construction jobs.

While on site we ran into one of our field guys who I had never met before.  After he and our super exchanged handshakes I held out my hand and introduced myself.  He took one look at me and said “you’re too clean” and then he proceeded to bend over, pick up a handful of dirt and dust and who knows what (remember we’re on a construction site) and threw it at me.  No joke, the dude threw a handful of dirt at me.  The last person to throw dirt at me was Katie Amos.  We were in the 2^nd grade.  I had just knocked her off the swings. 

From there I headed back to the office.  On my way in though I decided to stop for lunch at Panera Bread.  I had the paper with me and figured a nice lunch alone with my sports section sounded pretty good.  It’s about 20 degrees outside and I just left a pretty cold job site so a bowl of tomato soup should hit the spot, and since there’s a Panera Bread on the way to my office, well why not.

I’m not sure when it hit me that there was literally NOT A SINGLE AVAILABLE SEAT in the entire place, but it was definitely after I had opted to eat “here” as opposed to carrying out.  Not a single seat in the place.  Totally packed.  So I’m now standing there with a tray of tomato soup with a newspaper folded under my arm.  Just standing there.  All by myself.  Me, my dirty coat and my bowl of tomato soup.  You know there’s no place to eat at Panera Bread if you don’t get a seat.  There’s no counter, there’s no bar area or anything like that.  You order your food to go or you find a freaking table.  There’s no third option.  So I just stood there holding my soup as I tried to keep flakes of what looked like asbestos from falling off my coat and into my soup.  A table eventually opened.  It was a long wait.

Finally got into the office and said “hi” to my office mate (yeah, I share a windowless office with another guy – and a young girl who works Monday-Wednesday-Friday).  It’s cramped.  My boss likes to call it “cozy.”  Said “hi” again when my co-worker did not respond after my first hello and that was a mistake as he proceeded to yell at me (yeah, yell – I’m 38 years old and I was yelled at today – well, and someone threw dirt at me, too) for taking down his 1980’s Mega Death poster that he had on the wall.  I tried to explain to him that I did so because the young girl (she’s 24 – I was a freshman in high school when she was born – I can call her “young”) who also shares the office with us, and has a desk that faces the wall where this poster hung, complained to me last week.  So last Friday before I left, I took the poster down and put it on his desk.  He went ballistic, telling me that I have no respect for his things, and don’t appreciate how much time he spent decorating the office (while I haven’t put up a single thing in the office, I wouldn’t necessarily call the Mega Death poster “decorating”).  I actually started laughing at one point because I thought there was a chance he was just messing with me.  He wasn’t, and my laughing only infuriated him more. 

About 30 minutes later I got a call from one of my clients telling me that the huge job that he had agreed to give me last week was now going to go to one of my competitors.  This is despite the fact that I had already secured special pricing from my material vendor and had my submittals approved by the General Contractor.  Hell, I didn’t even know my client was still shopping the price.  But I’m out.  So I called my wife and asked her to spit out the champagne that she and I drank in celebration this past Saturday. 

Left work a few hours later (my office mate did not say “goodbye”) and drove home.  My iPod died halfway through U2’s Beautiful Day (that’s true and strangely ironic).

Walked through the door and my youngest son immediately started to complain that his new indoor soccer shoes had not yet arrived and his practice was in one hour.  My older son was complaining about sore hands, as he apparently spent the entire afternoon playing drums on Rock Band.  He also tells me he needs money for a field trip tomorrow.  My wife leaves on Friday for a girl’s weekend in Vegas (I’m thinking The Hangover – Girl’s Edition).

It’s January 11^th.  354 more days in 2010.  I promise not to write about them all.