Candid Camera, Where Are You?
Classic moment of the day:
I decide to go to work really early to have some quiet morning time to work on a writing project. I'm ready to walk out the door right at 7AM, which is exactly the same time, I discovered, that some of our sprinklers come on.
The ones blocking my only route to the driveway and sidewalk.
Yesterday, I left not quite as early and was blocked by another set of sprinklers. These were closer to the front door, and neither as vigorous nor as far-reaching. Because I was running behind schedule, I decide to make a mad dash through the mist.
Even though I was wearing silk pants and new shoes.
I did stop long enough to roll my pants above my knees (a good look, to be sure). This meant that by the time I reached dry land, I had wet calves, damp shoes, and tiny drops of water on the very nice leather briefcase I received as a gift when I left my last real job in 2005.
I described the scene to Zach a little later, and we agreed that I'd come home and change the timer so that the sprinklers and I could live in harmony from now on.
Fast-forward to this morning.
I called Zach at approximately 7:01AM (the time difference working for me for a change) to report that I'd been stymied by the sprinklers yet again. Because of course I'd forgotten to reprogram the timer last night.
So I asked him to remind me where the timer was, thinking I'd just shut the sprinklers off, get to work, and deal with it when I got home.
That's when I found out that I'd have to walk through the very same sprinklers I was trying to avoid in order to reach the timer that would turn them off.
Zach, of course, found this to be hilarious.
I did not.
I said that the whole point of trying to get to work early was to actually get to work and that making it as far as the front porch DID NOT COUNT.
So I waited for the exact moment when those sprinklers shut off and then tore across the front yard, arriving on the driveway a split-second before the other set of sprinklers—the ones that thwarted me yesterday—started spraying the next quadrant of grass.
The best part is that I can look forward to the exact same thing happening tomorrow morning.
Because did I remember to reset the timer when I came home tonight, back when it was still light out?
<sigh>
Maybe I'll just sleep in.
I decide to go to work really early to have some quiet morning time to work on a writing project. I'm ready to walk out the door right at 7AM, which is exactly the same time, I discovered, that some of our sprinklers come on.
The ones blocking my only route to the driveway and sidewalk.
Yesterday, I left not quite as early and was blocked by another set of sprinklers. These were closer to the front door, and neither as vigorous nor as far-reaching. Because I was running behind schedule, I decide to make a mad dash through the mist.
Even though I was wearing silk pants and new shoes.
I did stop long enough to roll my pants above my knees (a good look, to be sure). This meant that by the time I reached dry land, I had wet calves, damp shoes, and tiny drops of water on the very nice leather briefcase I received as a gift when I left my last real job in 2005.
I described the scene to Zach a little later, and we agreed that I'd come home and change the timer so that the sprinklers and I could live in harmony from now on.
Fast-forward to this morning.
I called Zach at approximately 7:01AM (the time difference working for me for a change) to report that I'd been stymied by the sprinklers yet again. Because of course I'd forgotten to reprogram the timer last night.
So I asked him to remind me where the timer was, thinking I'd just shut the sprinklers off, get to work, and deal with it when I got home.
That's when I found out that I'd have to walk through the very same sprinklers I was trying to avoid in order to reach the timer that would turn them off.
Zach, of course, found this to be hilarious.
I did not.
I said that the whole point of trying to get to work early was to actually get to work and that making it as far as the front porch DID NOT COUNT.
So I waited for the exact moment when those sprinklers shut off and then tore across the front yard, arriving on the driveway a split-second before the other set of sprinklers—the ones that thwarted me yesterday—started spraying the next quadrant of grass.
The best part is that I can look forward to the exact same thing happening tomorrow morning.
Because did I remember to reset the timer when I came home tonight, back when it was still light out?
<sigh>
Maybe I'll just sleep in.
Labels: salt mines
posted by Jody Rosen Knower at
9:48 PM
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