Even though I always look forward to visits from friends and family, there is always just a little bit of apprehension. I try to make sure that the flat is cleaned and up to scratch, but sometimes wonder if the inspection will pass muster. Making sure that my folks (or any visitor, for that matter) gets settled without too many language barriers is also a little bit of a concern. Above all, I certainly want everyone to enjoy themselves in my neighborhood.
The longer that I have lived here, this anxiety has diminished a lot, but still kinds of persists, typically when it comes to organizing dinners and particularly with translating menus to make sure that everyone finds something that they want (and can) eat.
This year, my father arrived with a couple of close family friends, and almost immediately was very apparent that this was going to be a very relaxed visit. After checking into their hotel close to my flat, Dad, Dan and Nan came over to my place. We got the hugs and greetings out the way, as well as the handover of the dark chocolate peanut butter cups; I had made a small request for several packages to be brought over.
The weather was brilliant, if not just a tad warm (for late April), but it meant that the next several days we would be able to spend a lot of time outside doing whatever we wanted. Everyone got quickly settled into the neighborhood. Dad and Dan spent most mornings having a coffee and roll at the bakery close by their hotel. They would later do a bit of walking around the city once Nan was up and about. Drinks at the pub (or wherever) were the norm by late afternoon/early evening, during which time my guests all got to meet most of my friends and Kumpels in the neighborhood.
As always, my friends were glad to greet friends/family of mine, and although my father is quite well known already, everyone really took to my friends who were visiting for the first time. Likewise, Dan and Nan responded graciously; our Tonne group got quite large for several days as we all gathered outside the pub at the barrel.
We celebrated my birthday at a local tapas bar with Nadja, and it was quite the enjoyable evening to enjoy some laughs, wine, and good food and company. Even though I am not really a big birthday guy, I have always really appreciated it when my folks would make a real effort to be in town on my day, and this year, being a little bit special, was all the more meaningful.
So the week went by quickly:beers and cocktails out and about, brats on the marketplace, gelato at the Eis Cafe, and quite a bit of German cuisine, as Dan and Nan did not really come to Frankfurt to eat Italian or Asian food. This is rather understandable for someone who has never travelled to Germany before.
In a flash, the week came to an end, and Dan and Nan prepared for their return to the states. Dad was gong to stay on another week. We had a last quick beer at the pub last Sunday evening, and during our goodbyes, I was really touched by Dan and Nan's kind words: they had a wonderful time hanging out with me and my father, in my neighborhood, meeting my friends.
Last Monday, the start of my father's second week of his visit, he came over to my house mid morning, and we spent pretty much the whole day just drinking coffee and chatting. Chatting about how fun the previous week had been, as well as catching up on all events happening either side of the ocean in our lives. It was so relaxing, neither one of us had any set agenda, and we actually talked so long that we almost forgot about lunch. In the end, we settled on a late late lunch/early supper at a little place down the street, before meeting up with the guys at the Kiosk as part of our Monday evening routine. It seemed so perfectly natural, and I was appreciative of my friends who have to make an effort to speak in English, but they take it in stride and I am glad that they accept those extensions of my side of the world without question. (True, it does help when my guests are nice people...all the more easy to get along with someone).
Most of the week was spent similar to our Monday. We simply just visited with each other, talking about so many different topics. One on one father time is something I have always cherished, and usually I get my chances with him when I am visiting the states over Christmas; early mornings with a cup of coffee. Obviously, last Christmas was a complete blur and we did not really have that opportunity.
It's funny, we both have similar ways of communicating, between both ourselves and with others. Several times during the week while we were out and about, I overheard him relating a story to someone and I realized that I was telling almost the identical story to someone else in a separate conversation. We seem to be on a very similar wave length most of the time, and even though this is really nothing new, it made it all the more special for me during this visit. We both regularly commented on how relaxed we felt.
I really enjoyed seeing my father interact with my friends. Dad is a pretty good conversationalist and has his really funny moments of wit. One guy who I don't know all that well made a passing comment to my father about how he had tried to get his own parents to fly over to visit him, even offering them first class tickets. My father quipped, "Well, I am happy to let you fly me over here in first class."
That cracked me up.
I still find that I am not only still learning about my father, but I am still learning FROM my father, and that is just a really great feeling. I know how proud my father is of me, even though he does not always need to say the words. Likewise, I am equally proud of him, as a father, a man, and a friend.
A few of us gathered at the pub last evening for a last little time together. The weather was pleasant, the company was good, and all of it helped bring a wonderful visit to a close.
I never like good-byes, and this one was particularly emotional. Dad and I had a big hug together, shed a few tears, then he walked on up the hill back to his hotel.
His flight took off about half an hour ago, and I stood on my balcony and looked up at the sky to see if I could see his airplane. It's been kind of a melancholic start to the day, but I was glad to stand there with my coffee and smile.
What a great couple of weeks.
Thanks, Dad. See you soon.
bryan
Monday, April 30, 2018
Friday, April 13, 2018
Venting on the Playground with a Bacon Roo
The other week I was on a conference call with about 20 people, including the country managers, the delivery manager, and a couple of guys who represent our external customer. Things got a little tense, and before you knew it, our delivery manager was in a heated argument with the customer. I am new to the specific project, but already had a pretty good understanding of why emotions could get a little tense.
As I sat at my desk listening to the two guys in their fiery exchange, I was reminded of being on a playground as a 10 year old watching two kids have an argument. In both situations, there was not an immediate solution present. In the case of the children, one person said something pretty much to the effect of, "I am going to tell my parents on you!" to which the other child responded, "Yeah? Well, nanny nanny boo boo!"
You know, all these years later, I cannot actually remember what the two ten year olds said to each other....
The incident really irritated me and put me in a bad mood for the rest of the work day. The sour mood returned a couple of days later when another colleague sent out an email requesting urgent feedback. The request was for information that most people understand realistically takes three to four hours to obtain. Unfortunately, said colleague did not understand this, so he sent a follow up message about 30 minutes later telling everyone to hurry up, and included a statement "the customer is escalating."
In other words, the customer was going to tell my parents on me? What might happen? My allowance might get cut off? Would I be grounded and not allowed to go out and play?
Throughout my career I have always been fascinated at the way people behave themselves in the workplace. All too often, I have experienced where people really get bent out of shape in moments of conflict, then proceed to exacerbate things because of the way they choose to handle the situation. Either they go into full blown panic mode and start making very rash decisions, or they simply throw all their toys out of the pram.
It is not coincidence that I keep referring to children in my analogies. What is rather distressing to me is that people (including myself, to be fair) tend to overlook their maturity. This is particularly exasperating for me at my job, since I work for a company that has continued to grow over the past six years, but we continue to really fall short when it comes to development, especially development of our resources.
Many of my posts here mention anecdotes from my work experience; a lot of them provide a sarcastic glimpse into the various challenges that occur when things are not going so well. As I said before, the company is actually reasonably successful, but I personally believe it comes at the expense of the people. As an example, a couple of years ago, we started a massive project which required a lot of system development and additional staff. Unfortunately, we somehow underestimated the requirements, and ultimately reacted way too late. We knew good and well that we would almost increase our basic accounting functions by 6000%, and we did not add any staff.
What?
It really came as no surprise to me last year as one by one, most of the financial team left the company. As much as I felt for them, I was equally frustrated by their reluctance to accept my offer to help support. It was clear to me that they were not clear on the tasks at hand, and I thought (rightfully, in my opinion) that I could help them understand what we were trying/needing to do.
Later on, I realized that my helpful gesture wasn't ignored because the recipients did not want the help, it was that they did not know HOW to understand that they needed the help. I ultimately decided that it was an issue of having the wrong people doing the task. Wrong, not because because they were incapable, but wrong because they never had the opportunity or the training. This comes down to personal development.
Recently, my teen-aged nephew was hired by a neighbor to do some yard work. My nephew grossly underestimated the task and quickly got himself overwhelmed. Instead of trying assess the situation and change his approach, he panicked, called in reinforcements (the parents), and together they more or less completed the project, albeit somewhat below expectation from all parties involved.
It was not as if my nephew had been asked to mow the lawn with a pair of fingernail clippers, but it was rather clear that he lacked the knowledge of how to approach the challenge, including which tools to use and how to use them. Of course, this was his opportunity to learn, and my disappointment comes more from the way in which the problem got resolved.
I know this sounds arrogant, but when I was that age, and when I worked for that same neighbor some 30 years ago, I had similar challenges. Likewise, I also got myself overwhelmed. But, when I reached out for help on how to solve the problem, from the likes of my neighbor and my father, I received both constructive criticism and support (as well as bit of humorous commentary) and most always was able to complete the job. And I LEARNED from the experience.
Building on those experiences leads to development and maturity, both of which have helped me greatly in my personal and professional life. True, a lot of this came from upbringing, but much of it also came from my education.
I consider myself to be rather logical, but certainly I have my moments of naivety, and I am still pretty good at being an absolute dipshit (Yes, I did almost lock myself out of the house again this week, and yes, I did narrowly escape the old aerosol spray in the eye trick). But, I always try to learn from the experience and build on it.
Earlier this week, I received a rather serious letter in the mail from the Frankfurt Finanzamt, stating that I owed them 200 Euro for failure to comply with a obligatory action that I was supposed to take part in last November. The letter went on to say that they were disappointed that I had ignored their follow up letters, along with their phone calls.
Exemplified? Naive - I failed to realize that the certified letter I received last November requesting my participation was important. Dipshit - I simultaneously failed to realize that there were financial penalties should I fail to comply. Dipshit point 2 - Simply ignoring the follow up letters.
Logic - I paid the penalty via bank transfer two days ago when I received the "final notice."
I do wish I had been a bit more aware last year when the whole thing started, but oh well.
Live and learn.
And don't continue to make the same mistakes over and over. That is what gripes me so much at work. How come we can't seem to collectively learn and move forward?
I had a rather enjoyable conversation just last Friday evening that helped remind me of how important this concept really is. As usual, I was standing outside the pub with a beer, enjoying the pleasant weather. I happen to overhear a young woman at the next table speak in English to one of the staff, and referred to time in Texas.
Normally, I don't go out of my way to broadcast where I come from, but I jumped out of character for a moment, and asked her where she came from. It turns out she comes from a city rather close to Fort Worth, where I have some roots. As we continued our conversation, we talked a little bit about the experience of living abroad, and then she remarked that she had attended college about an hour north of Dallas.
The moment she said that, and the way that she said it ("it's a really small college") I realized that there was about a 99% chance that I knew which one it was. I started laughing as she named the school.
It is my alma mater, too.
We went through the obligatory "No way, what a small world!" remarks, and just then, her husband returned to the table, found out what we were laughing about, and said, "So you are a 'Roo, too?"
The woman's husband is German, and the two of them met at an international event several years ago. He was quite familiar with our college and the three of us spent the next hour discussing how great the experience was, and what our time at the school had meant to us.
Both the woman and I agree that the school's curriculum was outstanding, but as much as we learned, perhaps one of the most rewarding things was that we learned HOW to learn. Although I have discussed this topic countless times with my classmates from my own years at college, this was one of the first times that I had ever had a chance to talk about it with someone who graduated 20 years after I did.
It was rather refreshing and comforting to encounter someone who appreciates the importance of living and learning, particularly someone so much younger. As I get older, I get the feeling that I don't see this enough, but this helps keep things in perspective for me.
People are still living and learning on the playground.
See you out there.
bryan
As I sat at my desk listening to the two guys in their fiery exchange, I was reminded of being on a playground as a 10 year old watching two kids have an argument. In both situations, there was not an immediate solution present. In the case of the children, one person said something pretty much to the effect of, "I am going to tell my parents on you!" to which the other child responded, "Yeah? Well, nanny nanny boo boo!"
You know, all these years later, I cannot actually remember what the two ten year olds said to each other....
The incident really irritated me and put me in a bad mood for the rest of the work day. The sour mood returned a couple of days later when another colleague sent out an email requesting urgent feedback. The request was for information that most people understand realistically takes three to four hours to obtain. Unfortunately, said colleague did not understand this, so he sent a follow up message about 30 minutes later telling everyone to hurry up, and included a statement "the customer is escalating."
In other words, the customer was going to tell my parents on me? What might happen? My allowance might get cut off? Would I be grounded and not allowed to go out and play?
Throughout my career I have always been fascinated at the way people behave themselves in the workplace. All too often, I have experienced where people really get bent out of shape in moments of conflict, then proceed to exacerbate things because of the way they choose to handle the situation. Either they go into full blown panic mode and start making very rash decisions, or they simply throw all their toys out of the pram.
It is not coincidence that I keep referring to children in my analogies. What is rather distressing to me is that people (including myself, to be fair) tend to overlook their maturity. This is particularly exasperating for me at my job, since I work for a company that has continued to grow over the past six years, but we continue to really fall short when it comes to development, especially development of our resources.
Many of my posts here mention anecdotes from my work experience; a lot of them provide a sarcastic glimpse into the various challenges that occur when things are not going so well. As I said before, the company is actually reasonably successful, but I personally believe it comes at the expense of the people. As an example, a couple of years ago, we started a massive project which required a lot of system development and additional staff. Unfortunately, we somehow underestimated the requirements, and ultimately reacted way too late. We knew good and well that we would almost increase our basic accounting functions by 6000%, and we did not add any staff.
What?
It really came as no surprise to me last year as one by one, most of the financial team left the company. As much as I felt for them, I was equally frustrated by their reluctance to accept my offer to help support. It was clear to me that they were not clear on the tasks at hand, and I thought (rightfully, in my opinion) that I could help them understand what we were trying/needing to do.
Later on, I realized that my helpful gesture wasn't ignored because the recipients did not want the help, it was that they did not know HOW to understand that they needed the help. I ultimately decided that it was an issue of having the wrong people doing the task. Wrong, not because because they were incapable, but wrong because they never had the opportunity or the training. This comes down to personal development.
Recently, my teen-aged nephew was hired by a neighbor to do some yard work. My nephew grossly underestimated the task and quickly got himself overwhelmed. Instead of trying assess the situation and change his approach, he panicked, called in reinforcements (the parents), and together they more or less completed the project, albeit somewhat below expectation from all parties involved.
It was not as if my nephew had been asked to mow the lawn with a pair of fingernail clippers, but it was rather clear that he lacked the knowledge of how to approach the challenge, including which tools to use and how to use them. Of course, this was his opportunity to learn, and my disappointment comes more from the way in which the problem got resolved.
I know this sounds arrogant, but when I was that age, and when I worked for that same neighbor some 30 years ago, I had similar challenges. Likewise, I also got myself overwhelmed. But, when I reached out for help on how to solve the problem, from the likes of my neighbor and my father, I received both constructive criticism and support (as well as bit of humorous commentary) and most always was able to complete the job. And I LEARNED from the experience.
Building on those experiences leads to development and maturity, both of which have helped me greatly in my personal and professional life. True, a lot of this came from upbringing, but much of it also came from my education.
I consider myself to be rather logical, but certainly I have my moments of naivety, and I am still pretty good at being an absolute dipshit (Yes, I did almost lock myself out of the house again this week, and yes, I did narrowly escape the old aerosol spray in the eye trick). But, I always try to learn from the experience and build on it.
Earlier this week, I received a rather serious letter in the mail from the Frankfurt Finanzamt, stating that I owed them 200 Euro for failure to comply with a obligatory action that I was supposed to take part in last November. The letter went on to say that they were disappointed that I had ignored their follow up letters, along with their phone calls.
Exemplified? Naive - I failed to realize that the certified letter I received last November requesting my participation was important. Dipshit - I simultaneously failed to realize that there were financial penalties should I fail to comply. Dipshit point 2 - Simply ignoring the follow up letters.
Logic - I paid the penalty via bank transfer two days ago when I received the "final notice."
I do wish I had been a bit more aware last year when the whole thing started, but oh well.
Live and learn.
And don't continue to make the same mistakes over and over. That is what gripes me so much at work. How come we can't seem to collectively learn and move forward?
I had a rather enjoyable conversation just last Friday evening that helped remind me of how important this concept really is. As usual, I was standing outside the pub with a beer, enjoying the pleasant weather. I happen to overhear a young woman at the next table speak in English to one of the staff, and referred to time in Texas.
Normally, I don't go out of my way to broadcast where I come from, but I jumped out of character for a moment, and asked her where she came from. It turns out she comes from a city rather close to Fort Worth, where I have some roots. As we continued our conversation, we talked a little bit about the experience of living abroad, and then she remarked that she had attended college about an hour north of Dallas.
The moment she said that, and the way that she said it ("it's a really small college") I realized that there was about a 99% chance that I knew which one it was. I started laughing as she named the school.
It is my alma mater, too.
We went through the obligatory "No way, what a small world!" remarks, and just then, her husband returned to the table, found out what we were laughing about, and said, "So you are a 'Roo, too?"
The woman's husband is German, and the two of them met at an international event several years ago. He was quite familiar with our college and the three of us spent the next hour discussing how great the experience was, and what our time at the school had meant to us.
Both the woman and I agree that the school's curriculum was outstanding, but as much as we learned, perhaps one of the most rewarding things was that we learned HOW to learn. Although I have discussed this topic countless times with my classmates from my own years at college, this was one of the first times that I had ever had a chance to talk about it with someone who graduated 20 years after I did.
It was rather refreshing and comforting to encounter someone who appreciates the importance of living and learning, particularly someone so much younger. As I get older, I get the feeling that I don't see this enough, but this helps keep things in perspective for me.
People are still living and learning on the playground.
See you out there.
bryan
Thursday, April 05, 2018
Captain Idiot is Back and Stronger than Ever
So, the past few days I have been wondering what topic I would consider for my next post. Even this morning as I was rallying to get out of bed, I did not seem to have many ideas.
Fortunately, my own actions have come to my rescue...
As I prepare for the visit from my father here in a couple of weeks, I have been doing some tidying up around the flat. You might recall I had a little list of tasks that I wanted to get done at the beginning of Spring, and a thorough hoovering and mopping was certainly on the to-do list. During my breaks from work during this morning, I attacked the dust bunnies hiding in the various corners of the house (as well as under the bed and sofa). I did not stop with the vacuuming, but continued on by changing out the mop head and took care of the bathroom floor, quite impressively, I might add.
I was really feeling productive by midday, managing not only the household chores but also the routine duties of my job. It finally stopped raining just around 13h, and I rushed off to the bank and then on to pick up the dry cleaning, keeping one eye on the darkening skies above. At the cleaners, I smiled sheepishly as the girl brought all 10 items to me: 3 coats and 7 bulky sweaters. She struggled to carry everything over to me at the counter, and I made a note to myself that in future I would try not to schlep so many things to the cleaners at once.
5 minutes later, I was revising my mental note (along with swearing and sweating profusely) as I awkwardly walked across most of Bornheim with everything. Indeed, it was all really heavy. Why the hell did I think it such a good idea to take so many articles at once? Furthermore, I wondered if any of the five dry cleaners that are a LOT closer to my house do a better job, just so I don't have to show the entire neighborhood my entire winter apparel.
Once I got home, I hung everything back up in the closet and checked that task off the list.
A couple of short conference calls later, I finished my last coffee of the day, then decided I would put my doormat back outside my front door. During winter, I usually keep it just inside the front door for any shoes and boots that have picked icy gunk. That way, I wouldn't track it all the way through the flat.
Earlier in the morning I had opened up all the windows in the apartment, and with the balcony door open, the cross breeze was absolutely brilliant. I could almost smell the smoky fugg from my kitchen just whisking away into thin air.
So, when I laid the mat down in front of my door, I was feeling quite accomplished, right up until that moment (which was really in about 3 seconds) when my front door slammed in my face.
This now marks the second time that this exact same thing has happened to me.
(check out the post from March 2010 entitled "Parental Approval Rating - High!")
Not surprisingly, I said what normally comes to mind when something like this happens.
"Oh, fuck."
Of course my keys and my phone were sitting safely inside: just a locked door keeping us apart.
Once again, I trooped over to the pub, hoping to catch my friend (the owner) and see about borrowing his ladder. As I approached the door, it opened and one of the other tenants was just coming outside.
"Hi, do you know if Ray is around?"
"Nope. He is in the Dominican Republic and won't be back until next week."
Yikes.
After brief consideration, I rang the doorbell to see if one of the other guys was around, and I was relieved when Marc answered. Marc is also a friend who works at the pub and lives in one of the small apartments upstairs.
Marc came downstairs and after a quick greeting, I asked him if he was busy and would he mind not only helping to bring the extension ladder over, but could he also help hold the ladder so that I wouldn't fall and break my legs as I climbed up to my balcony.
Just like I did with my father 8 years ago, Marc and I assembled the extensions and struggled to steady the ladder against my balcony railing.
Marc is quite a bit shorter than I am (and lighter), and when he suggested that perhaps it would be better if he climbed up, I almost hugged him. It is not that I am afraid of heights, but I am just saying...
A minute later, Marc clambered over the railing and walked through the flat to my front door.
I was greatly relieved, only to realize that he was just about to exit my flat without removing the key from the door, which would have put us back where we started.
"Wait, don't let the door shut!" I exclaimed, and we both chuckled as I removed the keys from the door and stuck them in my pocket.
Back downstairs to make the ladder short again, and then I thanked Marc profusely as he carried the ladder back across the street.
It's funny. Only yesterday I had sort of reminded myself to be very careful when opening the front door so as to avoid this exact thing from happening.
Sigh. And giggle. What more can I do?
This probably means that sometime in the coming days I will inadvertently and inexplicably spray myself in the eye with an aerosol cleaner.
Thank goodness I can amuse myself by being such a goofball.
See you out there.
bryan
Fortunately, my own actions have come to my rescue...
As I prepare for the visit from my father here in a couple of weeks, I have been doing some tidying up around the flat. You might recall I had a little list of tasks that I wanted to get done at the beginning of Spring, and a thorough hoovering and mopping was certainly on the to-do list. During my breaks from work during this morning, I attacked the dust bunnies hiding in the various corners of the house (as well as under the bed and sofa). I did not stop with the vacuuming, but continued on by changing out the mop head and took care of the bathroom floor, quite impressively, I might add.
I was really feeling productive by midday, managing not only the household chores but also the routine duties of my job. It finally stopped raining just around 13h, and I rushed off to the bank and then on to pick up the dry cleaning, keeping one eye on the darkening skies above. At the cleaners, I smiled sheepishly as the girl brought all 10 items to me: 3 coats and 7 bulky sweaters. She struggled to carry everything over to me at the counter, and I made a note to myself that in future I would try not to schlep so many things to the cleaners at once.
5 minutes later, I was revising my mental note (along with swearing and sweating profusely) as I awkwardly walked across most of Bornheim with everything. Indeed, it was all really heavy. Why the hell did I think it such a good idea to take so many articles at once? Furthermore, I wondered if any of the five dry cleaners that are a LOT closer to my house do a better job, just so I don't have to show the entire neighborhood my entire winter apparel.
Once I got home, I hung everything back up in the closet and checked that task off the list.
A couple of short conference calls later, I finished my last coffee of the day, then decided I would put my doormat back outside my front door. During winter, I usually keep it just inside the front door for any shoes and boots that have picked icy gunk. That way, I wouldn't track it all the way through the flat.
Earlier in the morning I had opened up all the windows in the apartment, and with the balcony door open, the cross breeze was absolutely brilliant. I could almost smell the smoky fugg from my kitchen just whisking away into thin air.
So, when I laid the mat down in front of my door, I was feeling quite accomplished, right up until that moment (which was really in about 3 seconds) when my front door slammed in my face.
This now marks the second time that this exact same thing has happened to me.
(check out the post from March 2010 entitled "Parental Approval Rating - High!")
Not surprisingly, I said what normally comes to mind when something like this happens.
"Oh, fuck."
Of course my keys and my phone were sitting safely inside: just a locked door keeping us apart.
Once again, I trooped over to the pub, hoping to catch my friend (the owner) and see about borrowing his ladder. As I approached the door, it opened and one of the other tenants was just coming outside.
"Hi, do you know if Ray is around?"
"Nope. He is in the Dominican Republic and won't be back until next week."
Yikes.
After brief consideration, I rang the doorbell to see if one of the other guys was around, and I was relieved when Marc answered. Marc is also a friend who works at the pub and lives in one of the small apartments upstairs.
Marc came downstairs and after a quick greeting, I asked him if he was busy and would he mind not only helping to bring the extension ladder over, but could he also help hold the ladder so that I wouldn't fall and break my legs as I climbed up to my balcony.
Just like I did with my father 8 years ago, Marc and I assembled the extensions and struggled to steady the ladder against my balcony railing.
Marc is quite a bit shorter than I am (and lighter), and when he suggested that perhaps it would be better if he climbed up, I almost hugged him. It is not that I am afraid of heights, but I am just saying...
A minute later, Marc clambered over the railing and walked through the flat to my front door.
I was greatly relieved, only to realize that he was just about to exit my flat without removing the key from the door, which would have put us back where we started.
"Wait, don't let the door shut!" I exclaimed, and we both chuckled as I removed the keys from the door and stuck them in my pocket.
Back downstairs to make the ladder short again, and then I thanked Marc profusely as he carried the ladder back across the street.
It's funny. Only yesterday I had sort of reminded myself to be very careful when opening the front door so as to avoid this exact thing from happening.
Sigh. And giggle. What more can I do?
This probably means that sometime in the coming days I will inadvertently and inexplicably spray myself in the eye with an aerosol cleaner.
Thank goodness I can amuse myself by being such a goofball.
See you out there.
bryan
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