Left of the Dial

all is explained

So I've just finished making lunch for Top Management and myself and given that part of said meal is leftover rice, which is by its very nature rather crumbly and somewhat uncontrollable, I have made a bit of mess. 

Just then, The Rose comes into the kitchen to do her post-lunch tidy-up. "I am so sorry about the mess," I say, looking at all the dried rice on the counter. 

"No problem," she says sweetly. 

I look at the mess and really do feel bad. Not bad enough to actually, you know, clean it myself, but still: a bit guilty. "No, seriously," I say. "I'm really sorry." 

She just laughs. "Seriously, it's not a big deal." 

I go back to work. When I come up an hour later, I see the rice is still all over the counter. But the sink has been emptied and the dishwasher's full. 

Which is when it hits me: oh, of course—The Rose wasn't bothered at all...because it's The Bean's job to wipe down the counters. 

The Bean, of course, normally so reliable when it comes to her cleaning, was downtown, voting on whether her union should go on strike or not. 

I cleaned up the rice. 

 

it's never about the nail (except...maybe sometimes...?)

I'm cooking dinner when I hear The Brawn talking to The Bean. He's recounting a story in a tone of voice which makes it clear he's highly vexed. 

Bean begins to offer some excellent advice, suggesting ways to solve the problem. For each solution, he's got a counterargument as to why that wouldn't work.

Finally, Bean says, "Buddy, it kinda feels like you don't want to find a solution." 

He growls softly and it's obvious he means it. 

After a pause, he says tightly, "Sometimes you just want to vent."

"Oh," Bean replies. "I was trying to give helpful advice. I didn’t realize."

There's a small pause. Then he says, softly and not at all unreasonably, "It’s not the same if you say you want to vent."

lemonicide

Top Management is cutting a lemon; she has found that if she adds a slice of lemon to her water cup in the morning, she will drink twice as much water that day, or sometimes even more. Because she is talking to me as she does this, and is notorious for her multitasking abilities, she has placed her phone on the perhaps not entirely dry counter. What's more, the phone is located exactly halfway and on a direct line between the lemon being cut and the quite large and quite full cup of water into which she's about to be depositing the slice. 

I grab her phone and move it to a different part of the counter. Although I am my usual oh so unobtrusive and subtle self, she stops cutting and talking to look at me quizzically. 

"Your phone was right between three different sources of liquid," I explained. "I didn't want it to get wet." 

Top Management looks every so slightly offended. Or at least, she starts to look that way. But before the expression can entirely form, The Golden Weasel, keeping true to her name, yells from the studio, "Mom, seriously? Again?!" 

I assume The Weasel is just making a very and perfectly timed joke...until I see the look of guilt on Top Management's face.

"It's not what you...I was watering the plants and...we're really going to have a talk about throwing family members under the bus."