Walk to the car. The bright, warm sun plays me for a fool, but the freezing breeze sternly reminds me it is still winter. Vibrant blue sky and giant white cumulus clouds surround the nearly pitch black low-rider rain clouds, skimming their way across the mountain’s foothill tops, depositing their cold, sloshy cargo of heavy rain and thick, wet snow. Forecast is for a dusting in the city overnight.
Hot soup and warm bread are what I crave, but Mexican-style chicken salad from the drive-thru will have to do. I’ve had worse. I’ve made worse. It actually isn’t all that bad. It’s just not hot soup. Something about hot soup on cold days.
As I walk back to the office from my car with my it’ll-have-to-do meal, I pass the facility manager taking a contractor on a tour around the building. He points out work that needs doing. It’s a lot, I’m sure. Hundred-year-old buildings are like that.
“And, we’re painting this year, too,” facility manager says to the contractor.
Good, I think. Anything but this color: not quite harvest gold, or sherbet orange, or adobe brown, but somewhere in between all of that. I hope they paint over the insane-asylum pale green with dark eggplant wainscoting interior as well. Maybe do something about the perpetual smell of dusty carpet while they’re at it. No matter how often the carpets are cleaned, the smell of dust lingers.
“Sorry, LRose,” the front desk woman says when she peaks her head around the office door, “I know you’re on lunch, but there’s a lady up front who asked for you, and, oh, my God…” rolling her eyes.
“She’s very happy,” rolling her eyes again.
“HI!” the happy woman exclaims when she sees me. She is 30-ish, shortish, pleasantly plump, long jet-back hair, large round glasses with rhinestones in the corners, smooth alabaster skin, rosy cheeks, fffffrosty carnation pink lipstick and a sssssparkly pink scarf around her neck.
“I’M SO GLAD TO MEET YOU! I THOUGHT IT BEST IF I JUST POP BY AND SAY HI!”
She is, indeed, a very loud, very happy, bubbly person. I catch the front desk woman glancing my way and she rolls her eyes yet again. I promise loud-happy-bubbly-pink lady I will put up the poster and distribute the flyers she’s brought by and then quickly excuse myself. Not-so-great Mexican chicken salad awaits.