“We need to go in about 15 minutes”
“OK. Getting up” Good, she’s dressed and almost ready to go. Maybe I’ll close my eyes for just a few more minutes. No. Getting up. Getting up.
Brisk morning, fall is here. Do I hear the furnace running? I guess it had to happen sometime. Not much time, I’ll just throw on some jeans and brush my teeth. (Wouldn’t want to have to hold my breath in the car to keep from stinking up the joint.)
I’m not making that bed. Not now… I have plans to jump back in there when I get home. This is my first free Saturday in a long time. Quick, drive her to work, don’t engage in anything, I’m sure I can get back to sleep.
In the bathroom to swish. Bubbles, we use a bubbly mouthwash. They can’t quite cover the taste of the peroxide. Ugh, there’s a trigger taste from a childhood with braces.
Spit, brush, spit.
Rinse the sink, idiot, she’s still using it.
R, takes his cues from years of conditioning. Plus, if there’s someone he wants to be thoughtful to, it’s T. He reserves his thoughtfulness for her, but the rest of the world can “fend for itself” he says.
Coat, jeans, shoes, not necessarily in that order, but maybe.
Hmm… It’s pretty cold--or seems so because it’s the coldest we’ve been yet--so maybe… In a month this’ll seem tropical, but I’ll warm up the car. Oh, grab a cap. Chilly. She’s putting shoes on, I’ll just leave the door open to let her know I’m warming the car.
The door closes.
Duh, warm the car at the expense of heating the house? Idiot.
“Thanks for the ride to work. I have a few things on the grocery list.”
“Won’t you have just worked 7 hours? You hate shopping after long shifts.”
“Nah, it’s just a few things. Small. Send me a text if you think of anything else. Well, keep it small, you’re right, seven hour shift. Bleh. I’ll be so ready for a salt bath and some wine.” She smiles.
I love it when her lingerie shows through the chink in her armor. She’s tough as shit, but, somedays, she admits she’s human. A female human. Or maybe I add the female part. God she’s pretty.
“Door-to-door service. Thanks! I’ll send you a text when I punch out.” She leans in.
A kiss.
Slowly driving away, Hmm… don’t engage too much in anything. I want to get back to sleep.
*Pop Life* comes on the radio. Teenage kicks, one of his two favorite music shows on radio.
When did Prince release that? Definitely on the tail end of Teenage Kicks’ timeframe. Well, that or today’s DJ is slightly younger, pushing the teenage kicks window from the 80s to the 90s. No, wait I remember spinning that, at the club, so it was totally the 80s. Ugh, thinking too much.
Back in the driveway, it’s almost impossible to avoid a windblown branch.
Dammit.
R parks and spends some time cutting the offending branch, a thorny, black locust sucker.
Ugh, more black locust shoots over here. Better get these. I’m just dragging these sticks to the corner of the driveway. Any more than this and I’ll never get back to sleep.
In the house he goes, the garage door closes.
Quiet house, the advantages of surviving toddler through pre-teen years. Kids that either sleep late or just take care their basic needs. Or move out... The house has gotten even quieter… emptier... without Em.
Back in bed, R’s sleep detour was about 30 minutes in total. He appears to be latching back on to the sleep train. And a
“Snore”
Yes, a quick wakeup to get his wife to work, so he can have the car today, and his much deserved sleep resumes. Much deserved… maybe.
“Let’s just go down this alley. We can hit the coffee shop in the middle of the next block.” He gestures tipping his head sideways, nodding at the alley. “I only nod when I’m serious.”
“Gross. Is that dumpster juice?” asks Baines
“No that’s runoff from parking ramp. The pipe is next to the dumpster. C’mon. The coffee shop is right over here.”
“All right.” Says Baines, stepping over the stream, he still doesn’t believe it’s just rain runoff even though he can see the drainpipe. “I mean… it is a stream of water in an alley running next to a grocery store dumpster. It stinks and it’s not getting on these shoes.”
Halfway down the alley, it’s Johnson. “Hey Baines, this is Johnson. He’s the realtor who showed me office space in this building.”
“This one? Nice view out the back, what with the dumpsters and the loading dock.”
Johnson leans in, “Ah, but you’ve got a view of Surdyks from the front.”
“A liquor shop, that’s more my style,” laughs Baines.
“Better, yet, it’s an old lodge,” grins Johnson, leaning in further.
Is he looking for a kiss? That’s awful close even for a sales guy.
Johnson bumps Baines with his shoulder, turns and and gestures up at the 2nd floor, “Hibernians.”
Baines a bit bewildered, “Hi… huh?”
“Hibernians, an Irish Catholic lodge. There were lodges all over this part of town in the late 1800s. Our current building was for the Oddfellows, the beauty school is in the old Mason’s lodge.”
“Hmm… and it’s available?” asks Baines.
Johnson, smelling blood in the water already had his keys out. “Sure, we can go up the fire escape.”
“Coffee?”
“Soon enough,” calls Baines. “This is the place you told me about with all the great rooms and the stage, right?”
“Ugh, yes.”
“Have to see it!” says Baines pointing up.
The fire escape scaled, but Johnson’s key doesn’t work in that door.
“Don’t worry. Wait here, I’ll go to the lock box in the front.” Johnson has made it down the fire escape and is dashing around the corner before either can decline.
They watch him splash through the stream.
“Ugh, gross. You’re right, that looks like dumpster juice from up here.”
“Better his foot, than mine.” Baines smirks. Looking back at the door, “We really need a new space. You said this has an elevator?”
“Yeah, and…”
An alarm sounds and the door is forced open. Johnson yells, “I’m pretty sure it’ll stop when we close the door! C’mon in!”
“Well, I was hoping to get some caffeine before my presentation to help with my tinnitus but this alarm should do it.”
Johnson slams the door. No change. Pushes the alarm bar, opens it and pulls it shut again. Nope. “Well, let’s make this quick.”
“Shit, the woodwork is awesome! I know I saw the pictures, but just couldn’t believe it. There it is, the stage!” Baines is taking in all the features and narrating in yells as the they are jogged through the space by Johnson trying to get them to the door.
Downstairs, Baines gets Johnson’s card.
“R, hey!” A voice rings from down the hall, “Hi. I’m Joseph, Carley’s dad. Carley Costello, from the soccer team.”
“Ah…” R remembers.
Johnson’s fiddling with the lockbox, “go on.”
Baines shouts over his shoulder and rushes across the street. “I don’t have time before your presentation for an espresso. I’ll just get a drip coffee at the cheese shop.”
“You’re not even going to my presentation, Baines.”
“Details!” Baines, the highly accomplished jaywalker, is across the street.
“The girls were talking after soccer, I hear you’re trying to recreate one of my pizzas.” Costello beams at him. “Want to see how?”
“Well, I really should…”
“Great, I just need to get the oven up to temp. C’mon in.” Pulling on R’s lapel.
Minutes--or possibly hours--of pizza and soccer talk later, the parmesean encrusted pizza with the runny egg yolk sits on the plate in front of him. Eating it, R realizes he learned nothing about how to prepare this for himself.
“Thanks so much, but I have to go...” he goes for his wallet.
“Don’t offend me. I invited you in. You were my guest not my patron.”
R really wanted to pay and be done. Still no coffee, but now such good hospitality, he’s obligated. More minutes pass with of talk of tryouts and soccer-association politics and what the league should do about the upcoming goalie crisis.
“Thanks, thank… thankyousomuch,” R interjects, finally, as he pushes through the back door of the restaurant. The sun is almost overhead, the alley is bright. Squinting as he walks, R steps in the stream.
Damn Baines, before this morning, I wouldn’t be pissed about getting a soaker from this puddle, but, now, all I can think of is garbage water.
His phone buzzes, it’s a text from Mike, in California. “Have you left yet? The meeting was supposed to start in 5 minutes, but it’s been pushed an hour.”
Oh shit, just enough time for me to change an ride back home!
R heads back to the office to change, responding to Mike that he will be able to make it home to take the meeting from there.
Walking up the stairs to the second-story office, his legs feel the interval training he did on his ride to the office this morning. Training, bullshit, I was just running late. Training through procrastination. If I don’t have time to dawdle, I’ll always have to be riding at high tempo. The sad thing is I just have to ride hard all the time.
“R!” the door to the office swings open, the QA is on his way through. “Can I bug you about something? We had an incident reported about the app...”
“Umm… I just found out I have to get home to take a meeting. Can this wait for John?” How do you ever respond *no* to people in need without sounding like a dick?
“I just heard he’s not coming in, something about the weather.” Nathan mentions following R to his desk.
“Weather? It’s sunny…”
The sound of rain drumming on the windows is what produces the ellipses on R’s comment.
Huh? R shakes his head.
A quick five minutes at the whiteboard and they both have the same understanding.
“Add that comment to the incident ticket. Get a hold of Tim to get one of his guys to kick off the script again.”
R, grabs his clothes, still damp from his “interval training” only an hour or so ago. Gross, but I guess it doesn’t matter with that rain.
Changed, R is dressed for a chilly rain with his big bag strapped on his back. Suddenly, nothing is more important than getting out of the warmth of the office. Unlocking his bike and rolling towards the stairs, Baines comes in with a coffee in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other.
“Well, the cheese shop had the coffee, but the liquor store was open too. Sample’s today!” Baines grins a “well-sampled” grin. He holds up the six pack, “Bell’s Barleywine dropped, today. C’mon upstairs and celebrate. It’s a third coast old ale kind of day!”
“Sorry, I have to get going for a meeting.”
“Aww… come on! I owe you for tipping me off about that space.” Baines lifts the six pack in his face.
“Gotta go. Really. Big meeting, I’m taking it from home.”
Bains grabs a bottle and shoves it in R’s bag almost knocking him over. “There. Enjoy. Thanks again on the tip for the space.”
“Cool, I’ll have that tonight.” I wish he’d offered me that coffee.
Finally, on the road, pedaling. Dammit, not as wet as things looked. Plus, it’s about 10 degrees warmer than I dressed for. Crap, I’m right at the time limit for this ride. No time to stop and peel off some gear. Ugh, can’t even softpedal to keep my body temp down. At least I’m going home and will attend this meeting remotely. Good thing smell-o-vision hasn’t been invented.
R, almost to his house, he glances at his watch. Wow, covered ground fast. Plenty of time before the meeting, I can make myself a cup of coffee. Moving truck? Oh shit. Right. We don’t live there. I’d better get to the condo.
More high tempo riding and R ends up at the condo they just bought, near the office. NEAR THE OFFICE. Much of the building is still under renovation. One of the construction workers stops in the dusty stairwell to ask about his bike.
“Yeah, yeah, I love riding to work, too.” Smirks the construction worker as he sips his coffee while sitting on the stone stairs. “This place is a trip, you live here long?”
Being the first tenant in the building under construction, he was sure the worker should already know the answer to this question, he thinks tread lightly, you don’t want to be an ass to the guy who can mistakenly sever your internet connection during your big meeting.
“Just moved in.”
“Ha!” the worker gestures with his cup, “I knew that. Just shittin’ you.”
“G’day, man. Gotta run. Meeting.”
Bike, bag, raingear cast aside. R grabs his computer, rushes into the office and plops on the yoga ball in front of his desk. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. Connect. No wireless, he plugs in the ethernet cable.
The meeting connects, Bill is the only one there. The room is empty otherwise. “Yeah, hey, R, we’re waiting for people to assemble.”
“Oh, give me a sec, I need to brew some coffee.”
“Yeah, hey,” says Bill, “Couldn’t kick this off without one, myself.” he raises a cup toward the webcam. “Oh, by the way did you meet Melissa? She’s our new technical lead for the payments system.”
“R, while we have you here can I ask you a question about your team’s mobile infrastructure?” Melissa came into the frame, he recognized her. They’d met at a user group the last time he was in LA and mentioned she should talk to their recruiter.
“Ah, OK, going to make coffee. Let me just drag my laptop along.” Crap… wired. Need to set up that new wireless router.
Damn, I really need that cup, but she gave me that tip about the security patches when we were talking at the user group. I owe her. “What would you like to know?”
“Well, you know that javascript bridge…” A few minutes of exchange and an, “oh yeah I get it,” later people start filing into the room.
“Bill? Bill! Do I have a couple of minutes yet? It looks like it’ll take a few before everyone settles in.”
Bill pokes his face in frame, “yeah, sure, they’re getting pastries and coffee, you have time.”
I’m still soaked from that ride. Sweat not rain. Yuck, better change. R jumps into their bedroom peeling off wet lycra.
She catches a glimpse of him, “Hi, I forgot that being this close to work might make opportunities like this.” She grins. “You’d need a shower before a nooner, though.”
“I do need a shower, but no time. Meeting. Sadface.” Pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, he slips on sandals, kisses his wife, and heads to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.
People.
What?
People are milling around his kitchen.
“There’s one of the homeowners! Lift your bloody marys and mimosas to R!” Grins all around.
Not a drop of coffee in sight. “How the hell did you get here, Baines?”
“First off, I didn’t ride out to the suburbs, like you.” Baines’ Surdyk’s-samples smile driven wider by a massive bloody mary.
Digging in cabinets, R can’t find his coffee beans. Wait, what? I can’t hardly even remember unpacking this place. OK, my coffee grinder is here, the brewpot is over there. My beans should be… “Excuse me,” he pushes by a couple of mimosa-induced conversations leaning against his counter.
“Damn, not there either.”
“We’re ready!” A small tinny voice rings out from the office, barely audible over the din of the party.
OK. DON’T BE DEFEATED! You’re bigger than a cup of coffee.
He runs into the office
Charge up, you have to present this product idea to the rest of the team in California. Damn this wet bag! Phew, thankfully it’s waterproof, so my sweat doesn’t soak through. Here are my headphones.
Fussing with the cables, R closes the office doors and gestures to the webcam to wait a second.
Headphones, knots, DAMMIT…
He rolls over and looks at the clock. Ten-thirty! I did fall back to sleep. Fan-friggin-tabulous. Still in the house, the condo was just a dream. Yes, it’s still Saturday and it’s time to brew that coffee.
