Downstairs at the station on Monday was a recent package for Tom, one of our engineer guys, possibly the tallest radio engineer guy on the East Coast which means absolutely nothing here, he’s just pretty tall, thought I’d mention it.
It was a big box, with lots of smaller boxes of surely important and expensive radio equipment stuff, smaller boxes of radio thingy’s and whatchamacallits that Tom would recognize in an engineer way that would eventually be replacements for old thingy’s and whatchamacallits or be completely new additions, or maybe even be part of the bridge controls for a spaceship Tom was building on the station’s dime on the down low to get him the hell out of here, but conduits to buttons that I would probably at some point push (or not push – depending on the yellow post-its with pointed arrows that say “Frankenberry Don’t Push This”).
Noted I thought, but I just used the word “eventually” earlier as to installation of all of this so I was good for the moment to not concern myself with personal yellow post-it notes just yet, but notice instead the more important aspect of what was also in this big box, with the lots of smaller boxes of surely important radio equipment stuff, the smaller boxes of thingy’s, and whatchamacallits that Tom would recognize and come with soon post-it warnings for me (though I might try and stow away on his spaceship to get the hell out of here as well – hopefully he brings post-its, I mean, it’s a spaceship … waaaay more important to note buttons I shouldn’t push out there, in space, where spaceships go – wouldn’t want to accidentally send us hurtling into a sun or something because that particular “send you hurtling into a sun” button didn’t have a simple post-it note telling me NOT to push it).
There was brown packing paper, lots of brown packing paper, or more famously (for me and Bella) “crunchy paper”.
I was excited! Crazy cat lady guy excited! (been a while since I had refreshed the crunchy paper, the old paper rolled around on and slept on scratched on and cat puked on and cat toy played on so much by my little Bella that it was now nothing more than cloth soft paper tatters).
I asked Tom if he thought he might need any of this “crunchy paper” for possible returns and if not, could I have it … for my cat.
He looked quizzically, annoyedly and in his usual “why are you bothering me Frankenberry?” kind of way, the way he often does when looking at me (he most probably being the one most understandably responsible for those yellow post-it notes in the first place) and said “Sure” hoping I would just leave his office as quickly as possible.
I thanked Tom earlier today for my Bella, told him Bella said I must, and even showed him pictures, like any crazy cat lady guy worth their catnip would, that he feigned interest in like a real trooper instead of just looking at me again quizzically, again annoyedly and again in his usual “why are you bothering me Frankenberry?” kind of way and said “You’re welcome?” hoping, once more, that I would just leave his office as quickly as possible (got a spaceship to work on man! and don’t you dare try to stowaway, don’t know if post-its stick so well in space!).
New crunchy paper Bella!!
Tom says “You’re welcome” by the way.
“Crunch Crunch Crunch”