from an email I sent to the newsroom before leaving today:
My mom made me some very nice seafood chowder for lunch on President’s Day (Feb 21). Yesterday (March 3), my husband said, “There’s still some in the fridge. You’d better eat it for lunch.” It was a very full container and I put it on top of my messy desk, had a long day, didn’t eat my lunch and went straight home after my last interview without coming back to the office.
I got in this morning and the container had spilled onto a bunch of my papers. I tossed the papers away, rinsed out my lunch bag and left for a news conference. When I came back to the office, I tasted my soup and decided it didn’t taste quite how I remembered it. I put the lid back on and went to buy a sandwich.
I should mention I can’t smell.
When I got back, the newsroom was buzzing, “What’s that horrible smell?!”
It was my cube.
Annie Baxter cleared off all the books with seepage in the bindings, Dan Olson came carrying wads of wet paper towels, Jess Mador passed organic lavender cleaning agent over the cube wall. Now I have four physical plant people spraying down my cube.
“Maybe we can bring up the extractor on Monday,” one of them is now saying.
My deepest and most profound apologies to my coworkers for this soup incident.
I will stick to peanut butter and jelly.