One of the women in our department recently left and the majority of her workload descended upon the two of us who work with the marketing implementation work...mostly datasheets for our products, and because my colleague has had a couple of high-priority full-time projects, I've been handling the extra work during the past couple of weeks. Most of it has been layout review of the work done by our freelancer, and then when I've given the approval, the job consists of receiving the source files for the document, archiving them correctly, uploading the PDF to 2 different databases and sending the link to my colleague (the same one) for the weekly internal enews.
Over the course of the past week, I think I've sent him links for approximately 15 datasheets that I've processed. He emailed me yesterday, while he was working on the enews and said, "I used to get 4-5 a week before...are you really that much faster?" And I wrote back, "Yes, to my sometime dismay. I'm faster than everyone." Heh. I wasn't bragging. I was stating a fact. I AM faster. I type fast, I talk fast, I react fast; often too fast, also to my sometime dismay. It's not always a good thing, since I know it's the manifestation of my impatience personality. It's something I actually work on: slowing down. It's really hard, I can tell you, and I have mixed results.
The sun was shining all day today in a bright blue sky and I was itching to just leave work and go out in it, but couldn't (see above: flood). It was almost a physical itch. When I came in this morning I realized I had left my office window open overnight, and I just realize, just now, that I did it again. We're on the 2nd floor at least, but I'll have to put a reminder note up or something so I don't forget again.
I couldn't wait to get home and go walking and was delighted that as soon as the kids got home from hemspråk and Karin had left for soccer practice, that Martin was willing to go with me. The signs of spring are definitely sproinging. Each day the lilac buds are slightly bigger and slightly greener. There are circled patches of bright purple, white and yellow crocus everywhere and the sharp pointy leaves of tulips thrusting a few inches into the air from the turned soil of the garden beds.
Martin told me a bad joke and I said it wasn't nearly as good as the cranberry crannibal one, and then suddenly we were in a pun war about CANNIBALS. We were snapping them out and the sunshine was beating down on our heads and we were laughing like maniacs every few minutes and groaning at each other's submissions.
The one that started it all:
What do you call a cranberry that eats other cranberries? A crannibal!
What do you call a cob that eats other cobs? A cornibal!
What do you call a roll of hay that eats other rolls of hay? A cannibale!
What do you call a cannibal that takes really little bites? A can-nibble!
What do you call a bird with long legs that eats other birds with long legs? A crane-ibal!
What do you call a sweet thing that eats other sweet things? A candybal!
What do you call an automobile that eats other automobiles? A car-nibal!
What do you call a fun fair that eats other fun fairs? A CARNIVAL !
Martin & Liz: *giggle madly*