• Skip to main content
  • Skip to secondary menu
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Home
  • About
  • Hire a Moxie-Writer
  • Speaking
  • Contact
  • Books
  • Podcast
  • Press

Moxie-Dude

Life updates gone wrong. Or right. I'm undecided.

  • #KitchenFails
  • Writing
  • Teenagers
  • Hamster Ramblings
  • Aging and its niceties
  • Shared Thoughts
You are here: Home / Hamster Ramblings / A story within a story

A story within a story

March 18, 2018 by Mona Andrei 6 Comments

 

And so we meet again, awesome readers!

As you may have guessed by the title, today’s post involves two stories. One is kind of a family fable, both are intertwined with a lesson in human behavior …

I have this quirk: I can’t sit at a desk that’s facing a wall.

It seems I have a strong aversion to concentrating when my back is exposed. Mostly because when people come talk to me, even if they gently say my name to get my attention, I jump out of my skin.

It’s like I’m somewhere in my thoughts … lost in words usually … and as my attention gets sucked back through the vacuum that separates focus and time, my entire being gets startled. It’s usually a violent moment and I end up startling the other person as well.

And so to solve this problem,

I recently hijacked a little table from the hallway of our offices and placed it as an extension to my desk.

Since the table is a little shorter than a typical desk, it’s not ergonomically correct and to fix this, I built up the table with two packages of photocopy paper and voila! A quasi-Macgyvered desk that lets me focus with my back towards the wall; the way working was intended.

Now I can see people walk up to me. No one screams. Everyone is happy.

WIN.

AND bonus:  I am now also better prepared to save the world from the zombie apocalypse.

DOUBLE WIN.

Then this …

For the last week or so I’ve been going into work and noticing that my stacks of photocopying paper have been displaced.

I didn’t really think anything of it. I would notice, rearrange the stacks, take my laptop out of my bag, enter the writing zone, end of story.

I never mentioned the mysterious displacement of paper to anyone and you’ll understand why in the second story of this post.

This week one of my colleagues walked up to my little work area to ask me a question.

(Note that I saw him coming and therefore there was no escaping of skin or moment of panic in the office.)

“So ummmm … Did you figure out who’s been playing around with your desk?” My colleague asked.

(Dad, if you’re reading this I’m pretty sure you know what’s coming next.)

“Yup. Just did,” I said.

He of course didn’t know how to respond. He just stood in front of me for about seven years, wearing an expression of hand-in-cookie-jar. Finally, I broke the silence by saying, “Let me tell you a story.”

I then proceeded to tell him the following family fable.

I don’t remember its origins. It’s one of those my-father-told-it-to-me-and-I-think-his-dad-told-it-to-him-and-who-knows-where-grandpa-heard-it-from stories.

Here’s how it goes, embellished by a blend of childhood memories and my imagination …

Once upon a long time ago there was this farmer. He was a quiet man with a quiet life. He got up early to do the chores. He knew how to fix things like tractors and fences. He wore coveralls and plaid shirts on most days and had a second pair of cowboy boots for Sundays when he, his wife, and two young children would go to church.

After the service, everyone would indulge in a pot luck lunch. With much to do seven days a week – tending to the crops, cows, chickens, and a few horses – and with many acres between neighbours, it was at the church on Sundays that the farmer would do his socializing. This is where he learned of calves being born, town gossip, and the price of hay.

Now as I mentioned, the farmer was a quiet man. He didn’t say much but he paid attention. It was just his way.

His wife? She was a hardworking woman and quiet just like her husband. But on Sundays she could chatter away with the best of them. Wearing her finest shawl that she crocheted herself, and boasting the doughnuts and salads on the serving table that she made that morning, she too eagerly learned of the town gossip and price of hay.

Yes, Sunday mornings at the church, after the cows had been milked, the chickens fed and eggs gathered, were a fine way to break up the week. Everyone looked forward to Sundays.

The rest of the week was pretty much routine. Except for that one particular Tuesday when the farmer set out to fetch the cows from the pasture. This is when he noticed that two of his young heifers were missing. After walking all along the parameters of his pasture to see if there was a break in the fence, the farmer concluded that someone had stolen them. Naturally, this angered the farmer. He himself an honest man, had no patience for thieves or cheaters.

After quieting his anger, he gathered the rest of his cows with the help of Bonnie, the family dog (and the farmer’s right hand), and went on with his day.

The farmer never mentioned the missing heifers. Not to his wife. Not to anyone.

Life continued.

Days slipped into weeks, months into years.

The children got older and started helping with the chores.

Bonnie eventually passed on and together, the family quietly buried her under the crab apple tree behind the house. For a headstone, the children took a rock from their mother’s flower bed and with pink nail polish, painted the letter “B” on it so that they could remember their beloved family pet forever.

The routine eventually ironed itself out and time went on with chores and Sunday gatherings at the church.

Then one day after service while the farmer was standing in a circle with the other men, all talking as they held paper plates filled with macaroni salad, deviled eggs, and chicken sandwiches, one of the men, a nearing neighbor to the farmer, asked a seemingly innocent question:

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said as he looked into the farmer’s eyes. “Did you ever find out who took those heifers of yours?”

The farmer, being of a quiet and gentle nature, finished chewing on his bite of sandwich, swallowed, and without smiling or blinking said, “I just did.”

Follow this blog with Bloglovin.

 

 

Share with your followersShare on facebook
Facebook
Share on twitter
Twitter
Share on email
Email
Share on stumbleupon
Stumbleupon
Share on buffer
Buffer
Share on diggit
Diggit
Share on pinterest
Pinterest
Share on reddit
Reddit
Share on tumblr
Tumblr

Filed Under: Hamster Ramblings

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. Alex says

    March 18, 2018 at 9:52 am

    Great read

    Reply
    • Mona Andrei says

      March 29, 2018 at 6:33 am

      Merci 🙂

      Reply
  2. Mary says

    March 19, 2018 at 12:56 pm

    at least it didn’t take you years to find the culprit, unlike the poor farmer. lol 😛

    Reply
    • Mona Andrei says

      March 29, 2018 at 6:33 am

      True that!

      Reply
  3. Priscilla King says

    March 22, 2018 at 12:35 pm

    I won’t sit at a desk facing a wall, either.

    If all office workers start saying this, instead of being bullied with “What kind of social phobia do you have?” or “You’ve not earned your way up to a desk that faces out,” we could still eliminate a lot of the petty not-sexual-so-much-as-just-interpersonal harassment that fuels hostility, sabotage, and sometimes violence.

    Reply
    • Mona Andrei says

      March 29, 2018 at 6:33 am

      I’m very lucky. My colleagues accept my quirks 🙂

      Reply

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Primary Sidebar

A book for single mothers? BOOYAH!

Buzz

“Mona’s ability to mix humor with insight is truly admirable.”
Holly Monteith, Cynren Press






Subscribe!

Enter your email address:
Loading

Recent Posts

  • All this talk about AI is making my brain explode. Just me? Never mind.
  • For Heather. For anyone who’s sitting on the edge.
  • When you’re a single mother, money is a BIG thing. Mostly because we don’t have any.
  • Single Moms! You Deserve the BEST Mother’s Day Ever and Here’s How!
  • Juggling Parenting, Finances, and Telling Dad Jokes Like a Boss: Single Moms Are More Than a Statistic

Recent Comments

  • Pennie Nichols on All this talk about AI is making my brain explode. Just me? Never mind.
  • Pennie Nichols on For Heather. For anyone who’s sitting on the edge.
  • Pennie Nichols on When you’re a single mother, money is a BIG thing. Mostly because we don’t have any.
  • Diane on Single Moms! You Deserve the BEST Mother’s Day Ever and Here’s How!
  • Carol Cassara on Single Moms! You Deserve the BEST Mother’s Day Ever and Here’s How!

Archives

  • May 2023
  • April 2023
  • March 2023
  • February 2023
  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • July 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • January 2022
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • December 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • June 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • March 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012
  • July 2012
  • June 2012
  • March 2012
  • February 2012
  • January 2012
  • November 2011
  • October 2011
  • September 2011
  • August 2011
  • July 2011
  • June 2011
  • May 2011
  • April 2011
  • July 2010
  • May 2010

Categories

  • #KitchenFails
  • Aging and its niceties
  • Boyfriend stories
  • Dating
  • Friday Funny
  • Guest post
  • Hamster Ramblings
  • Kids
  • Memory Lane
  • mom adventures
  • Non-travelling Adventures
  • Out & about – because Montreal is contagious
  • Out & About in Montreal
  • Pretending to be a grown-up
  • Raising teenagers
  • Random
  • Shared Thoughts
  • Single moms
  • Solutions to world problems
  • Sponsored Post
  • Technology (sort of)
  • That effin hamster
  • Travelling Adventures
  • Uncategorized
  • Weekly Wrap-up
  • Wordless Wednesday
  • Writing

Meta

  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.org

© 2023 · Moxie-Dude · webmaster