A wee mishap

Sometimes my inner demons use my physical body and act out little situations quite out of my subconscious.

I seem to have trouble with food.
I have always said that I do whatever my clients need.
I never said I do it happily.
I am cheerful about things and can do most any task with a cheery attitude. That does not mean I am happy doing it. --again: syntax is everything
One of the things about my workplace that really annoys me is that highly skilled people can be sent to prepare food while someone who struggles is out there doing Palliative Care.
That is not supposed to happen anymore. It does.
One morning soon I will be pureeing organic something for Mrs. I will eat it later while someone else is doing the Pals.
It's first up so I should not be too pissy about it.

Thanks to the miracles of modern pharmacology I am almost always in a good mood.
You would be too if you had been adrenally burned out for a decade and now enjoy normal adrenilin levels. So *refreshing* to sleep at night.
I can do almost anything in daylight hours. The earlier the better.
If I have a stinker client at 6am I could care less.
At 4pm I might have a headieache about it.
At 8pm I would stew a tad.
At midnite I would most likely rant.

The Scribe was the first and best example of food fights.
He had decided to hate my very presence since the day I had an urgent call from the Office that lasted 20 minutes. I had not yet realised it at this point. I would walk in around 5pm and be told labouriously how to boil water and slice carrots etc etc
"Dont touch the custard. Maggie (another worker) makes the perfect english custard. My wife and I have been waiting for months for her to come. She was here this morning. It's beautiful. We can't wait to have it for dessert. Just warm up the soup. It's in the fridge. You can't miss it."

I missed it. After ten mins of stirring the pot and wondering what was wrong with the "soup" I had the insight to check the fridge again. yup. The soup was still in it's bowl awaiting me.
It was the custard I was warming up. I had even added milk to it. You never saw the contents of a pot whipped back on a plate so fast! I put it in the freezer so it might firm back up. Then I put it way at the back of the fridge and got the real soup warmed up. Rocket science you know.
Hah. I got out while the gettin was good.

A student had accompanied me at that time learning the ropes. The Scribe in his pompous glory had thrown her out after saying that it was all *too much* while waving his finger at me. I had called him for permission earlier but apparantly he forgot. I guess the drama of throwing her out was too much fun. After the custard debacle I got into my car where she was waiting and told her the story. Of course we laughed. I also told her I would not be going back there.
hah

Last week I had the blender lady at noontime.
"Just puree some peas" she said. Did I know how to do that?
translation: can you do it exactly the way I want following the steps I desire in the order I dictate or do I have to come and sit in my wheelchair beside you barking out directions while telling you I cant hear.
yeah yeah I know how to do that.

First off the blender seal broke.
An omen.
I was lulled into a false sense of security while cooking them and thickening them.
I put them in her thermos and walked it into where she lies in state, a plastic cabinet serving as her everything drawers. The top drawer is pulled out for the thermos to sit in.
I put it in the drawer she pulled out.
She checked to see if the lid was loose enough for her to open.

Over went the drawer and pea soup went everywhere. It was like a outtake from the Exorcist.
*grrr* Made me late for my very important meeting and what's worse:
I went back there for a morning visit this week and as I brought the blenderized food over she said to me:
"Be careful of the drawer. One of those idiot girls that doesn't know anything knocked it over. Pea soup everywhere. Can you imagine?"

Yes I can.

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"Memory feeds imagination." ~ Amy Tan (Joy Luck Club)