A Thing for the Place with the Stuff

So. When something lights my fuse, I have to deal with it right. that. second. At work, that means I start dialing the phone without even thinking about what I am going to say.

The other day, as I was doing expense reports, three Metro cards dropped out of my bag. These passes for the Washington DC subway system each had a balance of something like 20 cents.

Stef, my colleague in DC, has worked with our group for nearly a year now. She has been telling me to get a real SmarTrip card. The hard plastic, reloadable cards that real commuters use. I called her:

Me: I need one of those..things!
Stef: What things?!
Me: For the place! The..um..card things!
Stef: Oh. (breathes) You mean a SmarTrip pass?
Me: Yes! Because the cards! Twenty cents! Everywhere!

She sent me the link to order one online.

“I need a thing for the place with the stuff” is a joke around my office. I am not the only person that starts talking without bothering to initiate the brainpower to articulate a coherent thought. Or even a complete sentence. But we generally understand each other. And Stef has officially been initiated into my nonsense.