Too dumb to be true

Today was one of those off days. You know, the kind where you don’t really want to get out of bed and go to work (because you have three fleeces in your living room), but you realize that you have meetings. Meetings can’t be missed, especially when your work is cool enough to let you do your already awesome job from home when need be.

So, I came in to work, dealt with the morning stuff, had a quick meeting, did more work, and then, bam!

Lunchtime.

I grab my knitting, because when you’re knitting a giant men’s sock (size US 12) in black fingering weight yarn on size 0’s, all those rows add up.

I get two rounds in before everyone sits down for lunch, and I tuck the mini ho-bag behind me so it doesn’t get food on it. I realize, ten minutes after I had gotten up, that my knitting wasn’t with me.

Crap.

Now, I am completely aware that people don’t [normally] steal knitting. But I feel this sense of panic. Not big “my-house-is-ablaze” panic, but “oh-shit-am-I-stupid” panic. There was also some “I-can’t-lose-a-sock-I’m-almost-done-with” panic. It was a veritable tartan of panics, if you will.

I approach engineers sitting at (what I thought) was our table and inquire about my Christmas bag full of knitting, to which I get puzzled looks. I thank them, and keep hunting. I turn around to look around, and someone had thoughtfully placed it visibly on a counter.

A sigh of relief. I tuck a corner in my pocket, and went on to play foosball.

The company I work for was once well-known for its’ foosball tables. I’ve never played foosball, ever. I played with people who were good sports, and weren’t so consumed with winning so as to make the whole thing a nightmare. We played five games, and I scored goals in most of them, I think. I felt really good about it.

I was worried that it would turn into a Competition. At a former job, the group I worked in did a departmental bowling thing, and the Former Boss was one of those fiercely competitive people.

Bowling is not my thing, and though I’ve done it before, when you have small hands, it’s just awkward. Couple that with no real bowling skill, and you have me, a crappy bowler. I don’t always have to win, so I prefer to goof off than suck and sulk about it.

I was the lead weight of our team. Cement boots, even. The sad thing was, that I felt like Former Boss was getting more and more frustrated with my lack of bowling skills. Ignore the fact that I was great at that job, my terrible bowling lowered me in his estimation. I felt worthless. How pathetic that a game was so important (a competition we couldn’t have won due to politics, regardless of our skills or score) as to make me so miserable.

Today was the opposite. I got to play, score a few goals, and make defeated “arrr!” noises.