Just one little thing…

Last night, after coming home late, and looking for something to accompany my dinner of hot soup, I watched some throwaway episode of some throwaway show in syndication.

The premise of the episode was that just one little thing can change the outcome of your whole day. It was a riff on the Butterfly Effect complete with a CG butterfly.

I actually thought it was a clever bit of television writing, and it was highly satisfying, along with my chicken soup.

This morning, I had occasion to revisit this bit of chaos theory as I made my way into work.

I left the house a skosh later than I’d wanted to, and when I fired up the Jeep, the gas indicator began making noises at me. I had to stop for gas, making me run even later.

The closest gas station is located on a road out of town that I don’t usually take, because along that road there are three schools. The parents dropping off their kids always backs up traffic, so I avoid it.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. In addition to running later than usual, and running into school traffic by taking a road I normally don’t take, it turns out there was a traffic light blinking at the most critical intersection (right before the highway entrance). So traffic on that road was backed up for about five miles.

And because I sat for an hour on a road that should normally take ten minutes to traverse, I got to work much later than usual, meaning I had a hard time finding a parking spot. The one I did find was a tight squeeze by a wall in the parking garage, and so I dinged my own door on the way out.

It also means the work cafeteria was out of orange juice by the time I got there.

And my staff gave me an arched eyebrow when I did finally roll into my office.

All this really bodes for a great day, right? Ugh.

So as I sit here at my desk drinking coffee instead of OJ, I got to thinking about how just one little thing had ruined my whole good day.

At first I blamed the traffic light. That damn light! If not for the flapping butterfly wing of that stupid busted stoplight I would have made it to work on time!

But that’s not really true, is it?

It’s that I rolled out of the house late. Had I had my you-know-what together and left earlier, there would have been less traffic.

But that’s also not really true, is it? Because even leaving late, I would have taken a different road and been fine…if I had a full tank of gas.

The crux of this whole thing was my empty gas tank.

See, last night when I was driving home, my near empty gas tank was already beeping at me. I could have stopped for gas on the route home, but feeling lazy and tired, I chose not to.

So the flapping wing, really, was my decision not to stop and get petrol last night.

That one decision has blown my whole Wednesday morning.

And unlike the television show, I can’t do a second act on this day and show what would have happened if the decisions had gone differently.

I have to, as The Good Man says, “just play through”.

That there is chaos theory, Karen style.

Near and Dear to my Heart

Sit back, I’m about to go on a bit of a rant, inspired by a story I read today in the SFGate.

About six or eight years ago, I was living in a small apartment in the South Bay, in a small eight unit building. The building dated back to at least the 1930’s, if not earlier, and featured this breathing dragon of a wall heater as its only source to take the chill of cold rainy evenings.

I had gone home to New Mexico for Christmas, and my mom, ever the practical one, had given me a carbon monoxide alarm as a gift.

Fine. Whatever. I took it back to California with me where it sat, unused, in the box for quite a while. A year or more, if truth be told.

One day, I was cleaning up the place when I found that thing and figured, “oh well”. I put in the batteries and hung it from my ceiling. Fine. Look at me. Miss Practical.

A couple months later, the damn thing started going off.

I was frustrated. Surely this was defective. Busted. Whatever.

I unscrewed it from the ceiling and moved it farther back.

And the damn thing kept going off.

Weird.

Fine. So after dealing with the piercing noise for, again, if I’m telling the truth here, several months, I finally called PG&E. I knew it would take them *forever* to fit me in, but whatever.

I told them that my carbon monoxide alarm kept going off and could I get an appointment for someone to come out check.

Anticipating at least 30 days before I got an appointment, I was surprised when, instead, the call dispatcher said, “someone will be there immediately” and further, “open all the doors and windows until someone arrives.”

Uh. Ok. Much ado about nothing, right? But at least I’d get quick attention.

Good for their word, a guy showed up within about ten minutes.

He took a reading in the center of the room and said, “I’m going to cap off your gas, you have fatal levels of carbon monoxide in here.”

Well blow me over.

Turns out there was a center tube of metal inside the heater that had slid down when the house settled or from age, and it left a crack about an inch wide that was venting the heater right into my apartment.

The next day, I absentmindedly told this story to a friend at work, and she started crying. One of her dearest friends had died from carbon monoxide poisoning. Her life could have been saved with the simple installation of a carbon monoxide alarm, but it was, instead, lost.

When The Good Man moved into our place, I told him this story and said I will never live in a place that does not have a working carbon monoxide alarm.

I refuse.

I was reminded about all of this today when I saw the headline in the local paper say:

Two Bay Area families survive carbon monoxide poisoning

“The mother said the family started feeling sick around midnight…When their symptoms failed to improve in the morning, they headed for the emergency room.”

That woman’s good thinking saved her family, her kids, her own life.

It scares the crap out of me. Apartments are required to have a smoke alarm, but not a carbon monoxide alarm. They even make dual alarms these days, both fire and carbon monoxide. Easy peasy!

So please, anyone who is reading this, don’t hesitate, don’t call it “some remote possibility”. Don’t put it off.

Get thee to a Wal-Mart or a Target or a Home Depot and BUY a carbon monoxide alarm and install it where you will spend most of your time.

Buy two, one for the living room and one for your bedroom. Just do it, okay?

Thanks. Your life matters to me.

Rumor has it

So. Word on the street is that today is December.

But I’m not buyin’ it.

Because I’m fairly certain I did NOT authorize 2008 to dissipate so quickly.

Nope. No way. No how. I don’t care that people are Christmas shopping. I don’t care that decorations are cropping up. Nope.

Nuh uh.

Not gonna do it.

Oh, and *someone* must have told the Bay Area that it’s December today because it went and got all overcast and foggy and crappy and, well, wintry.

I’m telling you, if we all band together against this thing, it doesn’t HAVE to be December. Roll back the calendar, get the sun out of storage and let’s go on about our lives circa, I don’t know, June?

How does June work for you? Do I hear a July? Going once, going twice…

Please stand by…I’m going to go see about fixing this.

Strange days indeed…

Most peculiar, Mama*

If you, like me, sometimes struggle with change…well, then this is NOT our year.

I mean. Let’s start with the election. Both an African American Man and a woman on the main stage. Whoa Nellie!

The economy. Jeebus, I need a seatbelt to stay on this crazy ride!

There’s even a new profession I only just heard of in an article about this economy. A “neuroeconomist”, who studies the biology of economic behavior. Some guy from Emory University is saying we’re all acting like a bunch of scared sheep.

Not sure I disagree.

Several friends have been laid off from jobs and have had a lot of trouble finding a new gig.

Fannie Mae now (unwillingly) owns some 54,000 homes.

Some meaningful people both personally and in society have passed away.

A couple people very dear to me are seriously ill.

My 43-year old friend is preggers (naturally) for the first time.

My big brother is moving to Malaysia…This just after he and his family came through freaking Hurricane Ike.

Gas prices are through the roof. Prices unheard of thus far in our country.

Oh yeah, and for me personally I got married and am potentially changing jobs after almost a decade at one company.

2008 is not for sissies!

And we’re only nine months into this thing!

Holy crap!

If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to the underside of my bed with a tubful of Cherry Garcia, a canister of Valium and my cat.

Call me when things have settled, hey?

*Borrowed liberally from John Lennon. Thanks John!

Is it the air up there?

Today one of my employees stopped by my desk, and she was fuming. To be fair, she’s a black cloud kind of a gal, so I take her fuming quite lightly.

“Did you see what happened over there!?!?” she said, pointing in the direction of the corner where the “big boss” sits.

“Yes, I saw,” I replied calmly.

She sputtered. “But…but!”

See…there is some retrofit work being done in the building where Big Boss used to sit. And on an emergency basis, they’ve moved their operations over to our building.

Needless to say, Mr. Big Boss is going to make his space as comfortable as he wants it…even thought he will only be here for three months, tops.

My employee sputtered on, “Did you see that he had all the cubicles rearranged and then booted (her friend) out of their window cube so that his admin could sit there?!?!?”

“Yes, I saw,” I replied.

“But…doesn’t that make you mad!?!?” she howled.

“No, actually…in the scheme of all the crazy things execs have done at this company, this is mild.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said, sullenly walking away, “It’s still not fair, though.”

So that got me thinking…at what point in the escalation of your career path do you flip over from “wow, thanks for doing that for me” to “WHERE IS MY ROOM TEMPERATURE WATER!?!?!?!”

When do you get a hall pass for acting like a turd? How high does the title have to be?

I’m firmly lower middle management, and *clearly* it’s not that level.

I guess the real question is…how hard do I gotta work so I can get to the level where I don’t gotta work much at all?

For now, I can only gaze UP at the ivory tower.