GRASS

partner-at-large corners me in the hallway, excitement writ on his face. christ. this will take hours. partner-at-large is notorious for his volubility and blue-sky abstractions.

-- hey, finn. let me run something by you.
-- i have to pee.
-- okay. what do you think of this for the space downstairs: we tear out all the architects' stuff except for the reception area and the east side becomes the production area.
he's already lost me. i'm not moving. i'm not giving up my window. it opens. air comes in. it's the greatest thing evar.
-- dude, my bladder.
-- okay. so there'll be transient work units [partner-at-large speak for "desks"] and whiteboards and print stations but we won't have enough money to do hardwood floors for the whole area so what do you think of -- he puffs his chest and breathes deep -- grass.
-- grass??
-- grass. not real grass, of course, kind of like astroturf but longer, with more texture. when you come into work, you could walk by the reception area and leave your shoes at the entrance to production what do you think?
he's looking at me the same way my dog does when he's waiting for me to throw the B-A-L-L. i expect his head to cock and one leg to lift. neither occurs, but he's still trembling with anticipation.
-- grass.
-- YES!!
-- um, what about the wheeled chairs?
there have to be wheeled chairs. my main stress relief in this place is packing loucypher in his chair and racing the width of the building.
-- we're thinking of those chairs that slide back and forth, you know, the suspended ones that...
and then he descends into some kind of herman miller jumbo but all i can think of is the slider-glider on my porch, which makes me think of summertime and mint juleps and boys with fans. ReveryTime.....
.........-- so, what do you think?
i think i have to piss.
-- well, i don't know. i mean, some people might be a little weird about their feet.
like jooliebooliemonkeystoolie. it's a safe bet that the chick who makes huge toilet paper nests in the bathroom so that her ass won't touch the same seat that other people's asses touch will NOT be thrilled about prancing barefoot with other barefeet.
-- and you know what a bunch of slobs we are. god, the Mayor can't make it from the kitchen to his desk without leaving a trail of coffee drips and donut sprinkles. who's gonna vacuum the grass every day?
partner-at-large looks visibly deflated. he really thought i'd be down with the grass.
-- but i'm only one opinion. ask joolie. can i pee now please?
without waiting for a response, i shoulder by and don't emerge from the bathroom until i'm reasonably sure he's gone.

fucking grass. WTF.