Today's Sunday shift went pretty well over all, but it sure didn't seem like it when I started out.
I nearly broke my and my car's ass trying to get to
work on time. After church I barely had time to dash home, snatch up a
plate of cabbage and boudain and hit the road.
(By the way, for those not in the know, boudain--pronounced boodan--is an exquisite New Orleans delicacy
involving spiced pork, beef, chicken, liver and rice ground into a
dressing and stuffed in a sausage skin. Done right, it can be as
heavenly in a savory way as cinnamon rolls are in a sweet way. Most of
the country, and indeed the world, is ignorant of this stuffed wonder.
You can't buy it anywhere within at least eight states of here, so we
had to import ours from friends passing through New Orleans. It's been
sitting in our freezer for just over a year now, so we decided that
since the wife and I are taking a minor break from our usual low-carb
habits--due to her being stressed out at having to take the second round
of board exams this week--we'd cook those suckers up today.)
So here I go, racing from home to make my usual 15
minute journey in 10 minutes. Never mind that the Fair is still going
strong and traffic is nutty. I realize as I'm driving, though, that even
if I'm a couple minutes late to work, the only person who will be
inconvenienced is Mr. B-Natural,
who's almost always waiting for us to open. Sure enough, he was the
only one there when I drove up, a full two minutes before 1. By the time
I actually opened the doors, Mr. B-Natural had been joined by Mr. Smiley, concentrating the world's population of grumpiest old men on our front step.
Mrs. H, who worked Saturday, had quite a busy day
according to the circulation stats. She didn't even have time to finish
the ILL's, so that was on my agenda. Eating my lunch was also on my
agenda... that is, until Bear Piss Man
wafted in for a computer. I didn't have a computer free for him, though, so he just stood around stinking up the front room until I did.
Bear Piss Man still smelled like bear piss, but he had obviously tried
to cover it by spraying himself down with some sort of air-freshener. It
did not help whatsoever. He smelled exactly like a urinal cake.
"Been to the fair yet?" he asked, still trying to ply
his free entrance to the freak-show favor. "Oh yeah, you went for the
cinnamon rolls the other day," he said, remembering that I'd told him
that. "Better go today, cause it's your last chance til next year."
I didn't reply. I finally put him on a computer and he
proceeded to stink up the computer hall for the better part of two
hours. When he left, he said, "Well, if I don't see you before next
year, it's been a real pleasure." Then he reached out and shook my hand.
And his hand was every bit as clammy as you'd expect it to be. As soon as
he'd left, I booked it to the sink to wash my hand, trying not to
breathe too heavily least I smell something on it.
I was unable to eat my beloved boudain until the place had been given quite a while to air out.
D-MINUS: 12
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