Goodbye to the Elastic Ball

I’m in the middle of writing a script, and was going to use the next entry to pontificate on the creative process, but a tragedy has occurred, far greater than anything else that might happen today.

My elastic ball, an elastic ball I made myself from two measly elastics, that has been with me for six years, that is the one personal item on my desk…is gone.

I know, I know. I'm upset too.

I know, I know. I’m upset too.

One week ago, our receptionist borrowed my beloved elastic ball. She had a multitude of files that needed elastics. I knew that the ball would shrink drastically, but sacrifices have to be made, and I could always build it back up.

Yesterday I asked if she still had it. She threw it out because there were so many old, tattered and useless elastics on it. She said it in the way that you would say “I threw that used diaper out by the way”. My sorrow knows no bounds.

The exact face I gave the receptionist.

The exact face I gave the receptionist.

You might be wondering “Why, Manda, why get so sad that an elastic ball is gone?” And it’s true, there are many elastic balls out there. Far larger AND more impressive than mine. But you see, this wasn’t just any elastic ball. It was mine. And I am but one half of an office worker without it.

I bet he cheated on his.

I bet he cheated on his.

Six years ago, I started working in my office as a receptionist. For me, reception was not always stimulating work (but I completely understand how it would be for others. I just don’t get joy out of organizing for a living), and I was often left with an hour or two to try to amuse myself with something that looked like work. That was when I found the big pile of elastics. I was told to clean them up.

Imagine this times twenty.

Imagine this times twenty.

And so the elastic ball began. I started with two, tying them together, then began wrapping other elastics around them. I ended up with a ball the size of a quail egg. After that, any time I had to kill between filing would be spent building that elastic ball. Eventually it was the size of a grapefruit.

People would take elastics from it, of course, and it would dwindle and grow as the elastic demand fluctuated but it would remain a constant on my desk. When I was promoted to bookkeeper, the elastic ball came with me. People knew me as the Elastic Girl. I hunted down any and all stray elastics so that it could add to complex tangled mass. When I was stressed, a couple of good bounces would always comfort me. Other people had pictures of their families on their desk. I had my elastic ball.

I don't think it's an exaggeration to say we were the fox and the hound...not an exaggeration at all..

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say we were the fox and the hound…not an exaggeration at all..

And now it is gone, torn away from me by an organization loving receptionist who has no time for the old, tattered elastics of this world.

And so, RIP Elastic Ball. You were my greatest accomplishment. May you bounce your way to another lowly receptionist in need of some elastic comfort. I don’t have a picture of it to show you…so here’s Hugh Jackman again. He will comfort me in my grief.

With claws!

With claws!

Some have said to start a new one…I just…I just need some time. Maybe I’ll throw out the receptionist’s coffee mug. Then she can start a blog to complain about it.

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Posted on March 21, 2013, in ramblings. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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