My Rockin’ Back Scratcher

A coworker and I went to lunch today. Something must have been in the sushi, because a few hours afterwards she and I were giddy and we each had a massive sweet tooth.

We kicked around the idea of snagging a piece of cake at Albertsons, but decided that would be too gluttonous after our large lunch. Perhaps a diet soda from the agency fridge would satisfy, but in the end, we bypassed all options. As we sat chatting, I reached for my back scratcher. Yes, a back scratcher. See, my first week at the new gig, I was a mess. I managed to stretch my legs out under my L-shaped desk and stub my toe on a weird, covert cubby that was hiding in the dark corner — thus splitting my big toenail right down the middle. It took four months to finally grow out and look normal. There’s more. A large couch sits just outside my door, so when I leave my office, I’m always trying to avoid it. That first week, however, I ran into it three times. That same week, I had an itch on my back that I couldn’t reach very easily, but I was determined to contort my body in such a way that I’d be able to scratch it and find relief. In the process, I pulled a muscle and sat in pain for a few moments, still with the itch on my back. After feeling sorry for myself, I vowed that I’d go out and purchase a back scratcher since I’m apparently getting old. I ended up buying not just one, but two: one for work, and one for home. This afternoon after sushi, we were chatting in my office. I have a window that faces a large common area, and a couch just below that window. It’s such a low couch, however, that if I’m talking to someone and they’re sitting on it, someone walking past my window can’t see them; it looks like I’m chatting with nobody and cracking myself up (which wouldn’t be unheard of, frankly). I get a lot of weird looks from people who seem to feel sorry that I’m talking to myself, so we decided that anyone sitting on the couch needs a periscope of sorts to see others’ hysterical expressions of confusion and pity first-hand. It’s good comedy, lemme tell ya.

My back scratcher was in plain view, so we made a periscope prop out of it, with my coworker hiding below the window and using the back scratcher to peek up and look around out into the common area. It was the stupidest thing, but we were in stitches.

Then we decided to turn it into a puppet. Before I knew it, she was scurrying out of my office with the back scratcher, and moments later she returned with a paper Slash — complete with guitar and top hat; he was ready for some window acting. A few other coworkers passed by as mini-Slash danced back and forth along the windowsill. Almost on cue, the confused expressions began again.

We were laughing so hard tears were beginning to appear in our eyes.

Should we make another paper puppet, say — create a miniature C.C. DeVille — and have guitarist wars in my window? Or maybe we should recreate the original Guns lineup?! The possibilities are as endless as the cans of hairspray used by 80s glam rockers.

Alas, only one paper puppet graced our afternoon, and before we knew it, it was 5 o’clock. Perhaps we’ll create more another day.

Tonight I am thankful for a ridiculous, hysterical afternoon filled with silly antics, and for a light-hearted way to ease into a long weekend. Perhaps not the most productive afternoon I’ve ever had, but corny shenanigans shared with a coworker are priceless.

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