Flush with success?

Dear Blog Reader;

I hope that this finds you doing well. I am fine. Bev and I have warmed up and recovered nicely from the long, beautiful ride along the shores of Lake Indiana. I am humbled by the power of words. Last blog I continued my quest to change the name of that lake to the north from Lake Michigan to Lake Indiana. Mother Nature took umbridge. The cold north wind, on its way to a date with its Carribean hottie over New York and New Jersey, poured down the length of the lake trying to gobble up our lovely shore. Waves that started on Canada's southern shore at 6 inches reached 20 feet against Indiana's cul de sac of a northern shore.

In this political season, it appears that the words Lake Indiana had the power  to make someone very angry. While some politicians would rush to the microphone and give the famous fake apology "if my words have offended any one, I truly apologize," I will not. I do not care if Michigan and Mother Nature are offended.

First off, the "if I have offended someone" apology really means "I apologize to all the namby pamby sissies out there whose feelings are so sensitive that they were hurt by my obviously innoculus words.  By any reasonable standard what I said wasn't offensive, but if your unreasonable feelings were hurt, then sure, I apologize.
As grandma Nellie used to say, "if is a mighty big word, boy."
Secondly, if some of my Hoosier forebearers had a little bit of back bone, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I never understood. I sat in Mr. Hiday's Indiana history class. I looked at the Indiana Territory map. We were sitting pretty. Our name was on land that included Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, and most of Minnesota. Ten years later, Indiana was the smallest state and our lake took the wolverine moniker. The twelve year old Roger still shakes his head in disgust at the weak leadership. I hope that Mother Nature did have her feelings hurt. We can take your huffing and puffing.

I have digressed. I started this blog with something on my mind. As I mentioned in "Take a Deep Breath" a couple of blogs back, we have moved to a new building at work. It is a very nice building. It has all of the modern energy saving conveniences. We have motion detecting light switches that saves my energy by keeping me from having to flip the switch when I enter the room. It also automatically shuts off when the switch detects no movement in the room for ten minutes. This proved very embarrassing for an office mate who was "concentrating" so hard that the lights went out on him.

Our heating system is state of the art also. Each room is zone controlled. It turns down as we leave the building and comes up so that we will be comfortable as we arrive for another hard day of work. The zones are controlled from the boss's computer. Thankfully,  she is too busy and much too serious to really mess with people's head by manipulating their room temp like a roller coaster all day long. I, on the other hand, have a more diabolical dream.

The toilets are the other modern convenience that has captured my imagination. No. . . we had toilets at the old location. It is just that these toilets have a sensor that flushes the toilet when you are done. I know this technology has been around for several years. This is a little different. The user has to signal their intent that every thing is done. The package has been delivered and is ready for transport so to speak. I am guessing that there must have been some miscommunication regarding intent in the old days, with the old proximity sensors that would flush as the body mass moved away. I am not sure of the cause of these premature flushes. Maybe the user was a squirmer; couldn't get comfortable on the throne, or maybe the package was hard to deliver and there was rocking back and forth involved. A sudden movement out of the zone, and we have a bidet moment; a little dampness on the touché, so to speak. This caused obvious misunderstandings as the victim tried to dry things off with the hand dryer and an oblivious coworker walked in.

So now as I contemplate the complexities of the business world while taking care of business, I see a small icon surrounded by chrome that encourages me to wave. It appears that when this most humble hand gesture of greeting or departure is given, a valve is opened and the package is delivered to another dimension. My troubles are flushed away with this familiar gesture of what once meant companionship.

The subtle and complex issues that arise from this mixing of distinct  yet equally important human gestures has thrown me for a loop. Not only has my upbringing been brought into question, but I may have ruined my children's lives too. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Freud say that in order for proper fetching up, we were supposed to praise our young one's (or is that Jung one's)when they delivered the package at the appropriate time and place. Reliving this event from my own experiences, my parents promptly flushed my gift down the toilet. That is one mixed message. Good boy Johnny, lets get rid of this disgusting part of you. Let's wave good riddance to you hard work. So here I am 48 years later still adhering to societal norms, doing the things that society demands and having to wave goodbye to the fruits of my labor. Thanks a lot progress.

Take care.

Roger.