… and it’s never the *right* guy, either.

Part of my job currently is to identify the various perks that each of our offices enjoy, in an effort to try to even things up. Company headquarters, for instance, provides parking for free, but at one of our remote offices in a crowded city less than 20 miles away, parking in the building where our company has offices will cost you $475 a month. At HQ, you can bring your dog to work – not true elsewhere. The food at HQ leaves MUCH to be desired, whereas the food at that other "crowded city" office is AMAZING – world-renown, in fact.

There are other things about that "crowded city" remote office that are unique. I have windows that actually open for fresh air (unheard of in most offices), an AMAZING view of the water less than a block away, and am regularly serenaded by a well-meaning saxophonist (who I suppose is entertaining tourists for money). The office is *directly* across the street from a high-rise hotel and here's where one of those special perks that happen ONLY in this office comes into play: random nakedness.

Without fail, at least twice a month and prior to 10am, some random figure will appear at the window of their room at the hotel. The figure will be not in the best of shape ever and could stand to actually GO to the gym, rather than just pay monthly membership fees. The figure will either be scratching, stretching, and generally waking up or drying themselves off from the shower. Either way, said figure will be naked. OH – and the figure will ALWAYS … always … be male. In the more than 5 years of sitting across the street from this hotel, I have never ever seen a woman doing this. It's ALWAYS a guy.

Now I know that I'm not the most educated human on this planet. There are many things that I accept without actually understanding the science behind them. But windows – I mean – who doesn't get how a window works? If you can see out and all the way into my office, and it's not all dark and mirrored but clear and bright – wouldn't a fairly enlightened human think "Hmmmm… so there's an office across the street and that woman there is pointing and laughing at me. I wonder if she can actually *gasp* see me?!!!" Nope – never seems to cross the minds of these guys.

And honestly – since I AM pointing and laughing, you know this isn't an ego thing. It may start off that way … as in "LOOK AT ME! I'm so impressive in every way that I don't even need clothes!" but when ya' see the woman in the other building laughing and pointing and calling her friends over to also point and laugh – I mean, isn't that kind of an ego-crusher? (By the way – if you're not already singing "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred, you SHOULD be.)

So yes, I started my morning with a random naked guy. THERE's a perk you won't see in the company brochure.

It was the best commute, it was the worst commute.

I didn't REALLY wake up until I was rinsing the conditioner from my hair in the shower. I was absolutely no longer asleep a few minutes later, as I remembered to pack my lunch and grabbed my after-work running gear with me as I walked to my car.

I *love* my ride. "Jake" is JUST for me from front bumper to back license plate. He'll be 7 years old in August, has ridiculously low mileage (intentionally, as I plan on having him for a looong time), and was the first car that I bought with NO help from anyone else. He is both my first "grown up" car and my "mid-life crisis" car all wrapped into one and, so as to avoid getting into a big car debate, I'm NOT gonna tell you what make/model he is, except that he is a rag top.

I stopped for my coffee fix, queued up my commute music, and settled in. Knowing that I was starting minutes later than I usually do, I realized that this would add about 25 minutes to my drive but no matter – Jake and I are good carpool buddies and I like driving him, even in traffic.

After Jake passed the airport, I noticed sirens in the distance. When his top is down, I'm far more aware of our surroundings, even with music blaring, and it didn't take long for me to see that I was gonna need to pull over a lane, quickly, so as to get out of the way of the now rapidly approaching emergency vehicles – full lights and sirens engaged. With Jake's right blinker on and crawling slowly over, I merged carefully into the next lane.

AND THE LOSER behind me absolutely blasted us with his horn. Now sure, I know that we pushed my way in, and I'm sure that our being in front of him is gonna throw off his *entire* day and make him seconds late all day long (note the sarcasm) but there were fire engines breathing up Jakes' tailpipe and I'm sorry but we decided that we were coming over so you'll just have to hang tight, mister.

My noisy co-commuter realized, after the 3rd engine (again, still full lights and siren) blew past us that he'd made a stupid assumption – that I was one of those self-absorbed, cell-phone balancing while driving with my knees typical woman driver – and he refused to look at my rear view for the rest of the time he was behind me. When we finally passed the accident and the traffic disappeared (how *does* that happen anyway?) he pulled along side of me and gave me the international "I'm a donkey and I'm sorry" shrug with sheepish grin … and I'd LIKE to say that I gave him the "yes you are but it's ok" sign back – but that's NOT the sign I gave him, tho' I did use a finger … which I suppose DOES make me the typical woman driver.

I was just starting to forgive myself for not forgiving him as Jake and I approached the bridge. It was cased in fog – so deep that I couldn't see the towers individually or the land on the other side. NOT the favorite part of my commute on an ideal weather morning, and this wasn't an ideal weather morning. But, on the other side, warmth and sunshine awaited.

So this is either a story of my life thus far or my commute this morning. Hard to say.

My Breakfast with Hobbes

So Saturday was my bday. As is my habit on my bday, I had plans. I get up at whatever time I either set the alarm for (weekdays) or whenever Hobbes, my indoor cat, gets me up (weekends) and prior to breakfast but after hot chocolate, sit on the couch and watch Breakfast at Tiffanys. I watch it alllllll the way through, waiting for the part where Holly and Paul are arguing in the cab, and it's raining and Cat is there with them. And as Holly asks the cab driver to pull over and tosses out Cat, I have myself a good cry. I know that it SOUNDS depressing, but believe me, it's not. It's tradition by now, and I was really rather looking forward to it, truth be told.

So – Saturday … I woke up, fed Hobbes, got my hot chocolate and, since it was already fairly warm, I decided to open the front door to get a little morning air through the place. The screen was closed, and Hobbes spent some time ignoring me, taking in the air. I popped in the DVD and got prepared to laugh, sigh and cry.

The moment arrives. Holly is bailed from jail, Paul greets her with a huge hug, and it's lightly raining. They're in the cab, the rain gets harder, she tosses out Cat, I begin to well up. They drive a bit further, Paul gets out and tells her about the cage that she's created for herself, and he walks back to try to find Cat. I have the tissue at the ready ready. Holly gets out of the cab, runs back, sees Paul and starts calling "Cat! Cat!" and I'm starting to feel a single tear of what I'm actually hoping will be many …

… and Hobbes starts to meow. No – wait, that's not accurate. He begins to yowl. Loudly. Each and every time Holly calls out "Cat?", it is met by an equally loud "meorwl" from Hobbes. Now there's no way that I can pause the film here and keep the moment, so I continue to let it run as I yell out "shut the hell up" to Hobbes and Holly calls "Cat!" in the movie and Hobbes responds in kind to both of us. So the three of us are yelling and the moment is gone and …

... I mean – how can that not be funny? At the time, I was rather angry 'cause he managed to wreck a really good cry but, actually, the whole scene was, in fairness, pretty damn funny.