Some of my earliest jobs introduced me to the concept of having my work inspected. How I loaded the catering company van I drove to the riverboat each night. How cut, glued, sanded, stained and finished a woodworking project. The Postmaster in the Post Office I worked for would periodically check to see that I was collecting from all the mailboxes, and that I wasn’t collecting any before the cutoff time. Every building permit I’ve ever pulled has required a set of plans, detailing the work I was going to do as well as an inspection when the work was complete. So yes, I’m used to inspections.
I am also used to passing inspections.
So I was surprised last week, when The Editor returned from taking Maddie out to do her business after I had finished clearing paths and “rest areas” for Maddie to use. I expected that Maddie would check them all out, sniffing the ground and scoping out the position of the clear spots alongside the paths. I jokingly remarked: “I assume my work passed inspection.” To which The Editor replied,
“No, you failed.”
Apparently, I forgot to clear two of Maddie’s favorite places to pee. I took care of one the following day, but it wasn’t until that evening that Maddie showed me that I still hadn’t cleared one far enough back from the path. Maddie likes to scoot under one of our bushes so the branches kinda scratch her back as she finds the perfect spot. Also, she did not approve of my lazy-man approach to creating the rest areas. I had just slipped in at an angle. Maddie prefers to have them squared off in both directions. She wants a rectangle, not a triangle.
All mistakes have been corrected. A subsequent re-inspection resulted in a passing grade.
This post is part of Linda G. Hill’s fun weekly series One-Liner Wednesday. If you have a one-liner, If you would like to join in on the fun, you can follow this link to participate and to see the one-liners from the other participants.