Here are a series of shorter blogs that I was requested to post as well...
September 25, 2012
As usual I was slugging into work this morning muttering my every day prayer that traffic would be light and then subsequently cursing because of course in this area it NEVER is but praying nonetheless hoping that one day God would take pity. Choosing to adopt the same look as everyone else so I can truly feel a part of society, I allowed the glass-eyed 'what am I doing out of bed and is this really my life' look to fall into its usual place.
I listlessly dragged my feet down the crowd-ish streets of DC, sighing mournfully as I hauled my 20lb purse (and seriously what the hell is it with women and purses anyhow? Why can't we just carry a damn wallet around like men and NOT feel as if the world is ending without our mascara and lip-gloss?...oh yea that's cause we're women and awesome...but I digress) and clutching my java as if it were a darn life line while heading towards the building that will most certainly house me for the next 10-ish hours.
Just as I was fantasizing about turning around and going home to snuggle under the covers, I felt a breeze brush my face, ruffle through my hair and I heard something strangely familiar but unidentifiable. Without warning my lips curved upwards as I tilt my face into the slightly cold nippy air as if to catch soft spoken words. It was fall. Fall came whispering to me of autumn leaves, hot cider, pumpkin patches, chubby cheeks under (slightly) spooky costumes with eager smiles, the smell of apples baking in flaky crusty shells and the utter childish comfort of warm blankets and cozy sweaters. Suddenly the morning didn't seem so horrible.
Yes, fall my friend, thank you for that and welcome back. I missed you.
September 25, 2012 Part 2
Why is it that the Starbucks lady was able to get right the order of a "Grande skim latte with two shots of espresso and blah blah blah (Like I could remember the rest even if my life depended upon it)" at the first go from the annoyingly skinny chick in front of me who persisted talking with her friend on the phone WHILE practically shouting out her order in a fairly quiet business establishment (startling a dozing baby who was napping in her stroller a few feet away...true story), but couldn't get my 'sweetened iced tea' right? She asked me 5 times what my order was, much to my shock and frustration. I wanted to ask her if it was necessary for me to add a few more nonsensical unnecessary fancy terminologies to my order so that she would have no problem in understanding me. I held back I'm glad to say.
September 26, 2012
I think today I'm in another sort of forgiving mode.
I got to work this morning with enough time to nearly skip to Starbucks for my java fix, gleefully contemplating all the way what I would order (and trying to not do what the anorexic chick from yesterday did..."blah blah blah..." coffee woman, its coffee). Normally I'm rushing and reduced to imbibing in the crap stuff that they call 'coffee' at the office but not today...no sir, today it would be the good stuff. I approached the store and was relieved to note that there was no obnoxious line spilling out into the pavement so I flung open the door (with too much zest because I nearly bashed myself in the beak) and was a bit taken aback by at least 30 folks milling around waiting for their order (that too in various states of annoyance). I think to myself "great" and proceeded to line up.
With patience and a smile I placed my order and stepped aside. After a long bit (where I was doing some breathing exercise closely resembling labor breathing in order to control my temper) they called my order. I thought 'not bad' and moved forward but not fast enough apparently because I was totally blocked (and that too by a be-suited bald dude who had a big gamin grin and was far too upbeat for my taste so early in the morning) and the hot liquid nectar of life was swept right from under my outstretched fingers. I stood stunned trying to reason that possibly he had ordered ahead of me and that I should just wait my darn turn but what were the chances he'd have the same exact order (I know there are perfectly good chances of this happening but hey it's early, I'm heading to work and I want to be unreasonable)?
So I scuttle to the chick behind the counter and murmur that I had the same drink and she realizes that in fact I did and that he had usurped my goods. I turn to look (not glare I swear) at the guy and he already has his lips firmly in place and gives me this sort of shrug and a wholly unapologetic look but says 'wow, I think I have yours'. I think 'no shit Sherlock, you are a genius' but instead say 'oh it's okay, I'm not rushing, she'll get me another one'. Which is actually true, I wasn't rushing but what the heck? Did some happy bug come and bite me in the butt that prevented me from throwing down the possessions in hands, pulling out my broadsword that is ever-present in my purse and screeching out an epic battle cry that would have curdled his very blood in-turn causing him to beg me to forgive him???? Must be since all I did was smile sweetly, sweep up the coffee that the very apologetic barista handed to me and left with a toss of my hair.
Let's see what the rest of the day brings and if this forgiving mood persists. I'm thinking no.
September 27, 2012
Okay, I declare this is my 'rant' day. Today, twice, and I repeat TWICE, I came face-to-face with some jerk who apparently doesn't believe in common courtesy. I mean I get it, women’s lib and all that; I know we asked for it but seriously where be this mythical concept of 'chivalry'? Is it truly that dead and gone and buried that holding open a freakin' door for a freakin' female who is bogged down with crap in her hands (and clearly struggling) becomes an inconvenience? I mean example, this morning I’m rushing (really is anyone shocked?) to get to work due to crawling traffic keeping me in one place on 395 for what I felt was akin to a Koon age (which I’m not sure is precisely how long but probably about as long as I always seem to be stuck in traffic). After parking everything was on fast forward. And of course I had my previously mentioned 20lb bag, coffee and a few other odds and ends I felt I couldn’t live without simply to get through the day.
I come to a door and there’s a guy ahead of me. I’m a bit relieved that I don’t have to risk dropping any one of the aforementioned items and slow down my approach to the door politely. The guy glances back, opens the door and…walks through allowing the door to slam behind me and subsequently in my face. :0| Seriously? Really? Dude. Too rushed to truly vent my anger with an outraged cry (although I did squeak in protest), I moved on. Coming to my office another gentleman (in a suit and looking quite spiffy) is ahead of me at the elevators. I’m several feet behind as he’s just getting in and instead of holding the door; he lets that slid shut in my face.
No seriously, what the heck?? I do get that we asked for liberation and to be treated like equals but please someone tell me when this precluded being polite? I can’t remember ever reading in history where we wanted to be given our right to vote and be equal to men and oh also please be rude to us and never mind about holding doors open and saying thank you because that would insult our senses and make us feel inferior. Doesn’t matter to me if you’re a man or a woman, get your head out of your butt, remember that karma is a bitch and will find you laying flat on the pavement one day because the sidewalk came up and tripped you, and hold the damn door for someone. Personally I don’t think this is asking for much. <rant over>
September 28, 2012
Last night I was sitting on the couch dozing and thinking that I really needed to take my behind to bed but negotiating the stairs seemed daunting in the face of laziness. The chances were I would fall asleep on my way to the bedroom, most likely on the stairs; therefore the safer bet was to just stay on the sofa like the potato that I must have resembled. P tried to cajole me to move but I blatantly ignored him, sniffing in response to any pleas and aimlessly flipping through channels. Just as I was happily sliding into that space between slightly conscious and passing out, a loud sound literally jolted me up into a fully sitting position. My heart raced, I felt totally disorientated and immediately wondered if something hadn’t plowed into my home. Now I will tell you that I’m a fairly brave person by nature, I will conquer most of my fears or at least try to face them, I am not generally afraid of bugs (however I really hate those that leave slime behind and spiders creep me totally), I will stride bravely into pitch black rooms and basements with a snort of derision and I’ll even maintain my gate while walking past dark alleys. Oh yea, I’m bad!
But okay so I admit, cracking thunder which literally resembles to me like the hammer of God coming down to strike us all, does not give me any sense of comfort. I wasn’t the kid who would shriek and run to her parents when thunder decided to come calling, I was the kid who would pull the blanket over her head and pray reverently to Allah for it to all be over (which included bribes). So last night I’m sitting there like a deer in headlights as I realize we’re having a thunderstorm (because I hear no rain pitter pattering upon the windows). Stomach clenching in apprehension I turn on the computer and decide to distract myself with some innocent online shopping. First the fact that I would chose to pull something in my lap that was in fact connected to a power source while in the midst of such a storm was dumb. Second, the skittishness that I was feeling wasn’t going to disappear simply because my need to shop sometimes overshadowed all other common senses. And third, this dislike for thunder was deeply rooted so no matter the distractions, I would always be aware. The second two things lead me to drop my computer at the next deafening roar that ripped through the otherwise quiet night.
Was I alarmed that I had just unceremoniously dumped my lovely (yet ornery) red lappy onto the hard wood floor? Nope. I was more wrapped up in the belief that my house was being targeted by God and even at that moment my roof may be on fire. Concern for property drove me to go outside (yes, can you believe it? Wimp extraordinaire going outside during such a scenario), lean back and peer up into the black night. The air was warm but windy, the trees were moving in a manner closely resembling audiences at a metal concert and I could smell rain in the air (laugh but you can). I’m relieved to see no flames licking up my roof and with that in mind I decided bravery and property be damned I was not staying out for another second. Zooming in, I slammed the door shut and sprinted up to bed as fast as I could and dove head first under the cover (P was fast asleep and didn’t stir even an inch…stupid man). Suffice it to say I didn’t sleep for hours.
Did I mention that I intensely dislike thunder?
No comments:
Post a Comment