Me: *bursts through the door into the house* MOM!
Mom [in another room probably having a heart attack because I am not a ‘burst through the door and shout’ kind of person but rather a ‘slink in the door and quietly traverse the two feet into my bedroom’ kind of person]: Archie?
~ As you may have noticed my name is not actually Archie. My mother is just fond of nicknames. As in she really never uses my real name even when friends are over which just gets mortifyingly embarrassing when she absently calls you Lulabell McFerdinand or something~
Me: Guess what I discovered at work today?
Mom: Something technical that you had to make sound pretty?
Me: *shouting across the house* BEAVERS!
Mom: *pauses then appears* There were beavers at work?
Me: No, not at work, in work. There were beavers in my work. Unexpectedly stupendous beavers. I got paid to write about dam-building, tail smacking, big toothed beavers. Do you know how often that happens? Someone just hands you beavers in the middle of your more technical mumbo jumbo and farm assessments?
Mom: *starts to mirror my enthusiasm* NOT OFTEN.
Me: NOT OFTEN! I genuinely lol’d. Big ol’ snort in the cubicle. Then I had to explain to my cubicle-mates the whole beaver situation. I can’t tell if they were chuckling at the beavers or my beaver enthusiasm or my weird snort noises.
Mom: *looks like ? *
Me: Laughed out loud, come on Mom. You keep telling me you’re hip. Be hip. Get with the lingo.
Mom: *subtle conversation change* It is almost Canada Day.
Me: Right! It’s a sign from the universe.
Mom: What sign?
Me: I don’t know, but it’s some kind of sign. Maybe the beaver overlords are coming. Maybe Canada will finally raise its beaver army, join its moose brethren and instill a state of politeness and maple syrup over the whole world. Look at that idea – we could achieve world peace with beavers.
Mom: Sometimes I worry about you.
Me: I know. But really the beavers weren’t even the best part – have you heard of beaver deceivers? Because I hadn’t. But they are essentially things that deceiver beavers. It RHYMES. Not only did I get unexpected beavers in the middle of a workday but I got rhyming beavers.
Mom: What are beaver deceivers?
Me: No clue. Some kind of beaver trap for when they annoy farmers. Apparently Manitoba hasn’t caught onto the beavers = world peace thing yet.
Mom: Sometimes I wonder how you got that job.
Me: Because I believe in my stupendousness! Also because they knew that I was the kind of girl who could a) handle both the tedious technical reports and the excitement of unexpected beavers and b) because I’m the kind of girl who actually gets excited by a spontaneous beaver interruption. That kind of enthusiasm is an immediate moral lift.
Mom: Unexpected beavers are stupendous?
Me: YOU BET! *pause* When’s dinner?
Me: When Hedgehog gets home.
My life in a nutshell… I’m only slightly paraphrasing.