PlazaJen: Passion Knit

Don't worry, I'm not turning this into an infomercial for Radio Shack. But my aforementioned terrier-obsession with fixing my TV connections? Is at ease, for the moment. Here's the story of yesterday - along with a frightening glimpse into the Pit of Madness - aka, my brain.

So, over my lunch break, I got into PowerPoint. And I created boxes & text boxes within them, for all the electronic components that needed to be hooked up. (I even made little boxes for each of the speakers. NERD.) Then, on my way to pick up my lunch, I swung into the midtown Radio Shack. And was completely ignored by every salesperson in there. I was nervous, anyway, so I didn't get all indignant (typical path), and instead bought one red-blue-green video cord. Because of everything I didn't know, I had at least figured out that I needed it. Got back to work, set everything aside, except for the terrier in my mind who was shaking the new cord back and forth and not lying down. Whatever, buddy, I have a shitton of work to get done, I can't obsess every minute of the day.

On my drive home, I made a last-minute lane change, and went to the bigger Radio Shack, by Ward Parkway Mall. I could see there weren't many people in the store, and I thought, "Maybe. Just maybe." So I go in. I have my little folded up piece of paper. A young, somber little man named Scott walks up to me and, unbeknownst to him, opens the Door of Madness, saying, "Can I help you?"
"Yes. OK. I have a home entertainment question. I am extremely stubborn. I know I can do this, but it's NOT WORKING."
I proceed to tell him everything, smoothing the paper out on the counter. I omit the conversation from earlier in the day with my father, who told me to approach the project like a dullard. "Because the Geek Squad people aren't necessarily SMART, Jennifer, they're simply CAPABLE." Glimpses into my formative years, people, GLIMPSES.

And then? Scott encouraged me to go back to my car to get all the owners manuals I had confessed to bringing with me but not into the store. And Scott? Spent half an hour analysing everything & we drew on my PowerPoint slide and I only needed to buy two more cables, and while Scott never smiled, I knew he was one beautiful cat inside his pasty geeky body and that he wasn't a dullard, but he sure as shit WAS CAPABLE. And I came home and collapsed from the stress flowing from my body, and I didn't even get on the floor to start the rewiring process, because I KNOW now how to do it, and that is 9/10 the battle, and if I encounter any problems? I KNOW WHERE SCOTT WORKS.

Just so you know, I'm not the only one dipping my toe in the Pool of Insanity this week. In fact, yesterday afternoon, Kristin came into my office and threw herself down on the floor. Flailing. While telling me she was DONE with the holiday knitting (because she wasn't actually done with it), and then a couple people came over because they thought someone had FALLEN in my office because her foot was poking out the door, and really, in retrospect, what does that mean they think of ME? That I would just let someone fall down on the floor and not even get up & just TALK to them while they writhe in agony and pain? And while I'm talking about crazy, NO MORE POPCORN. Sweet baby jesus, the tins of popcorn keep pouring in. I thought about donating one, but to where? Old folks home? EEEK. Denture Madness. I love popcorn, and I love presents, but we have 3-4 tins in our kitchen at work (for under 30 people), plus Kristin & I each got three tins apiece yesterday. (One was a mini tin, all caramel with pounds of pecans. Uh-huh. YUM! Terrier likey!)

By tomorrow, I expect I'll be barking. The terrier inside will take over on the other things, like work, cards, presents, whatever, and instead of using language, I'll just bark. That will cut down on my time spent on phone conversations, I suspect. Peace out, peeps. Stay crazy, and keep on truckin'. And wirin'. And diagramming all your problems so the nice people at Radio Shack can give your inner terrier a rawhide bone.