No worries, though. I reached over and got my phone from my nightstand. I opened my banking app, and paid the bill. I never even had to leave the comfort of my nice, warm bed. This miraculous moment brought to you by capitalism.
That must have been what was keeping me awake, because once I'd paid that bill, I fell asleep almost immediately. The alarm still went off way too early.
I'm not sure what happened. I must have gotten dressed really quickly, because I actually had time to get my violin out and practice for about five minutes, before leaving for work. When I got there, sure enough, they'd turned the turnstiles back on. Just as sure, there was a line behind one single turnstile. Sigh...This is how you know society is doomed. As if that weren't bad enough, there are some employees out there that just can't grasp the concept of how to unlock the gate. See, it's got a sensor thingy, and all you have to do is touch your badge to the sensor. The light turns green, and you can enter the plant.
Well, there is this one guy who just does not get it. He'll walk up and start flapping his badge in front of that sensor like a hummingbird. Someone nicer than I am will show him how to do it, and he'll go "Oh, OK." But then the next day, he walks up and starts flapping that badge like a hummingbird again. My friend has shown him several times how to do it. She said she's not showing him again. I said, "If only they'd get rid of that zero tolerance policy, someone could slap him upside the head a few times. I'll bet he'd remember how to do it then."
I finally made it into the plant and went to the back break room to get ice...only to find the back gate was once again propped open. What good does it do to secure one entrance when you've got five others standing wide open? Seriously, people.
Anyway, I get to my brazing stand, to discover that my B shift counterpart had left me set up with another round of my favorite early morning game: Guess The Unlabeled Order. That's right, no pick ticket, no parts tickets, not even a handwritten note on a paper napkin. Nothing. A little sleuthing and I figured out what the order was, but I shouldn't have to go through that before I've even had a chance to drink my coffee.
If ever I manage to get out of that place, I could be an investigator of some sort. Between unlabeled orders and pick tickets without any sort of jig number on them, Lord knows, I've had plenty of practice.
The rest of the day passed without incident, and when I got off, I discovered it was a glorious Fall day. I was able to leave the French doors open for a little while, until it got a bit too chilly. Since it's supposed to get down into the low 40s tonight, I went ahead and brought my Christmas cacti inside.
I've got them on top of the deep freeze for now. This weekend, I'll bring their shelf in and clean it up really well, then settle them in for the winter.
By the way, I don't think I told you this. See the one in the front row center? That was a cutting I'd taken off one of James' cacti before they moved back to Texas. It was the one that had light creamy colored blooms. It was a big, beautiful cactus. This is what it looked like last year.
A few weeks ago, that &@$%*@$#^%$*&$ chipmunk got onto my shelf and dug the whole thing up. It was all torn into pieces. I was furious. I picked the least damaged pieces and replanted them into that same pot, plus a couple into the plastic cup on the left. The one in the cup has taken, but I'm not sure about the ones in the pot. The cuttings haven't dried up, but they're not showing any signs of growth, either.
Even if it survives, it won't bloom this year.
Stupid little rodent.
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