Work was a ghost town today. I swear I saw a tumbleweed rolling down the hall. Since I’m using most of my vacation time in August when I go to the Outer Banks, NC with my family, I didn’t want, or need, to take the day off.
It reminds me of when I was younger, my mom would make me go into work with her even if we had a snow day (she works at the school I went to starting in 4th grade.) Most of the lights in the halls would be turned off, and it had this very eerie feeling since hardly anyone else was there. I’d roll around the halls on an office chair and entertain myself for hours. Lunch usually consisted of something we could heat up in the microwave, like cups of ramen, and then I’d color and keep myself occupied. If I was lucky and could get the antenna to pick up a signal, I’d watch cartoons on a tiny portable TV. I also vaguely remember playing around with a typewriter that my mom actually used for work (it was the mid 90’s but that still seems so outdated to me.) When it was time to go home, we’d bundle up and get into the car as quickly as possible. It had probably been snowing the whole day while we were inside, so my mom would clear off the snow and ice while I got to sit inside the car.
Snow days at my dad’s work were similar except that he works at a college in an area where there is a lot of big, old machinery used for making paper. It was even more desolate than my school on a snow day, and ten times more eerie. Even if the machines weren’t in use they’d make noises, catching me off-guard as I walked around by myself. In order to get to the bathroom, which was in the basement of the building, I had to walk past this big rectangular hole under one of the machines a floor above. I would always picture a massive anaconda slithering around in the hole, and then I’d speed up and get the hell away from it so the imaginary serpent couldn’t eat me. To keep busy I’d color; my dad was more strict with the TV privileges, plus it was ancient…probably one of the first color TVs ever made. There was this stash of pretty colored paper from machine runs past, and I knew where it was, but it was locked up so I’d have to ask my dad to let me in, and even then I wasn’t allowed to go wild. He would say something along the lines of, “You can take one of each color, or a few of a couple of colors, but you’re not the only one who gets to use the paper so we have to leave some for everyone else.” Yeah, ok. I think some of that paper is still stowed away, and I’m pretty sure it could survive the apocalypse.
Hope you enjoyed my walk down memory lane!