20+ years ago, the internet gave birth to the “Jeff Goldblum is watching you poop” meme. This was the inspiration behind this week’s fridge statement, which evolves as the roomie or I swap out a word or two as we putter around in the kitchen.
In accordance with the updated covid protocols, the communal coffee machine and kettle have disappeared from work, leaving us to scramble for a new hot morning beverage source. My solution was to spend $40 on the largest insulated bottle I could find, 1.2L, to tote boiled water from home because I prefer to do all my teabagging at work.
My latest functionality requirements.
My desperation as a habitual tea drinker rivals that of coffee drinkers. At least I thought so until I found out that someone brought their camp stove so that they could heat some water for their Aeropresso in the loading bay. What did upper management think would happen? Or was this Bonnie Henry’s suggestion?
Essential oils? As in, you’d die without them? I think not.
My right arm has been out of commission for a few days now. There’s no exciting story behind this injury: it’s a repetitive strain injury that started back in my desk job days. It began with tendinitis in my wrists, which is why I now use a mouse with my left hand and can type one-handed. For the most part, my wrists are okay; however, the bike accident from two years ago added a dodgy right shoulder, which is what’s currently bothering me, to my growing list of ailments. It feels like I have a heavy, burning limb hanging from my shoulder: 0/10 would not recommend.