|
Saturday, Apr. 09, 2005 / 11:06 a.m. ~The Gist of It~ Such a big day was yesterday, so big it couldn't fit into being written before the day ended. How did it even begin? The coworker who used to be a friend returned after two days off, two blissful, quiet, peaceful days we enjoyed without her loud and disruptive presence. And at first it was nice to have her back, like things were back to some semblance of whatever 'normal' is right now. There are so few of us left in that office that we often have to take a walk through the rows of cubicles to count heads, to see who's there. It's only when someone causes some sort of ruckus that everyone pops up, prairie dogs on the office prairie, popping up to have a look, to pipe in, to insert cents, two at a time and sometimes more. It began with a letter we all received on the same day, in our home mailboxes, from the company, regarding benefits, and I didn't check my mail Thursday so I missed it, and I've elected not to engage in the benefits program, no insurance, nothing, so it didn't affect me, but these women started in on what they thought was a loss of insurance, and a blatant attempt to deprive them of some basic human right, when really, it is all a privilege, and if one eats right and exercises, and drinks plenty of water, why the constant need for doctor visits? Granted, some of them may have 'conditions', some may not be able to afford a lapse in coverage, but the panic that washed over the suite in a wave the size of the grandest tsunami had even the coworker who used to be a friend, the 'freakout instigator', proclaiming her head hurt. I popped up to satisfy my own curiosity, wasn't aware of the letter, don't have the insurance, and sat back down actually to work, which no one does during these fishwife bitch fests, and when the favorite coworker came by to startle me by kicking my cubicle wall, this time it was obnoxiously the loudest it's ever been, and since I was in the middle of working it did startle me more than usual, and I lost it. I told her, finally, instead of acting pissed off, that it really did piss me off, that I'm sick of it, it's highly irritating, and she said she had fun and I said, "Well that's what's important, that you enjoy yourself", and it was cat fight thankfully not going to happen. Still, the supervisor next to me had to remark, and the woman behind me, at which point I blew up and said I had to sit and listen to all the crap in the morning and frankly I was fucking sick of it, without using that word, no fucks there, but this was how the day started. And I pounded it all out for a little journal entry, and quite cathartically felt better instantly, and did my work, and reneged on my commitment to have lunch with these same fishwife bitches, did my shift at the reception desk and read (finally, as I'd been putting it off after reading the saddest sentence) the part of Waiting for My Cats to Die wherein Stacy Horn's one cat does die. And she's left with only one cat after so many years, and I held back tears as I read, stopping to answer the switchboard if it rang. She had a vet come to give a lethal injection to her cat in her home, and it was so descriptive, and so necessary and so sad, and tragic and heartbreaking and I know, I have been there, but not quite the same, I waited too long with Kitty, so I don't know, but I'll face it soon enough, and knowing this, that I will face this, and will it be Norma, or will it be Gladys?, was too much, but I read until I got to a few chapters later and she adopted another cat, a kitten who really needed her, and things picked up, and life goes on. And so I went on. On my lunch break, instead of going with the others, I deposited my paycheck in the ATM, and picked up a Cuban sandwich at the Publix, and instead of going home to eat it, I looked at the parted clouds in the sky, and thought of the mechanic telling me it should be cold and clear when I get the emissions re-test, and it was cool, and not clear, but clear enough, and the car was warm, so I drove back to the same handsome Mexican man, and he asked if I'd gotten a new catalytic convertor, as he suggested, and seemed surprised by how cheap the repairs actually were, and yet he re-tested and I stood back and ate my Cuban sandwich while I watched a small puff of white smoke clear and no further smoke billow from my car's exhaust pipe. Standing, eating, thinking, 'no smoke, no smoke, no smoke', like those kids at Woodstock and their 'no rain' chant, until he looked over at me and smiled a closed mouth smile and I thought he is so handsome, and I passed, it passed, the car passed, and I'm going to be okay, and the world is a beautiful place, and my sandwich had been inhaled and I was no longer hungry and no longer worried and suddenly everything was grand, and I thanked him and shook his hand, and he held the car door for me like last time, and I thought this guy is a real old school gentleman, he treats women like they're special creatures, and I drove straight to the mechanic right down the street and waved the emissions certificate at him, showed him the old one versus the new one. He was happy for me and smiled, and his mechanic helper came and looked at the two certificates and smiled, and we were all very happy, like the story was over and it had a great ending. But I mentioned how the car now stalls when it's cold, and it didn't before, and all I cared about was the smoke, but now the idle is rough, the timing is off, and he says he'll adjust it, and I say next week, thinking we'll worry about that later. The supervisor who sits next to me was excited, she knows the stress I've been under with this car, she knows I can't buy a new one, and she understood, and she said I should leave early to get the new tag, and so I told the department manager (this sounds so boring, doesn't it?, so 'and then she said, and then I said', blah, blah, and believe it or not I'm leaving out the part wherein the site manager showed me photos on his computer of all his motorcycles and I said, "You have all those pictures on your hard drive here at work?", thinking we're leaving and he needs to clear that shit up), and we agreed I'd leave early to get the new tag. Ah, the tag, no long wait like the supervisor suggested (and my own supervisor had this reaction, "I have no sympathy for people who don't get their tags on time", for which I berated her and told her she is mean and she is never on my side, and I only wanted her to share in my enthusiasm, and I thought of that horoscope for the day, how it said no one could bring me down, but people would want me to be practical, and wanted to tell her she is a supreme bitch and I've grown to hate her, and this makes me sad because I hate no one, and I tried so hard to like her, for so long, but who could ever like someone like her?), in fact I barely had time to read my book in line. And there was the little girl with amazing long flaming orange hair, inside the tag office, and the Mexican man outside teaching the two small children how to use a pogo stick, and the woman driving the Mercedes with the Indian music blaring out the open windows, but that was later, that was on my way to buy the two new tires. And I sat outside the tire shop, on a chair in a row out front, and watched pollen blow in clouds across the street, and cars drive by, and marveled at the sheer number of automotive repair shops and tire shops and Mexican restaurants and tattoo parlors on this one stretch of road I have only traveled once before. Then driving on my new tires on the front, my older new tires on the back, my car running roughly, but knowing there was no smoke, and a new sticker on the plate, I pulled into the Harley shop to price leather jackets, thinking I'd always wanted one and is this splurge day? I still got home way before I normally would (leaving work early rules!), and felt I'd accomplished so much, and there is nothing like that feeling. I spent too long on the automated phone line for my bank, trying to figure why my deposit was recorded, but my balance was wrong, and then said aloud that it was too late to make the movie I'd decided to see, at which point I knew my eyes lit up, though I couldn't see them, and I said, "But you know I love a challenge", and I drove a most circuitous route to the theatre intown, as there was Festival traffic (HUGE outdoor festival all weekend started last night). I drove through my favorite intown neighborhood, past all the old trees bursting with tiny green leaves, all different shades, and up one road, and down another, looking at the numbered street signs, and finally to the theatre, and there was parking, and I calculate a solid fifteen minutes of trailers before every film now... So I saw Woody Allen's new movie, "Melinda and Melinda", and was disappointed, but only because Woody is stuck. Even if he has a clever concept, an idea he's not had before, his execution is always the same, the dialogue unvaried, and it's as if he lives in a bubble and is totally out of touch with modern popular culture and human relationships. He has no idea. Anymore. He is still what he always was, and cannot adjust or compensate for the world changing around him. And it's impossible to watch whichever character would normally be played by him, were he still to act in all his films, without picturing him playing it, as he was, maybe in the '70s in his heyday. To make matters worse, there was a serial laugher behind me and over, and she wouldn't stop. She laughed after she was through laughing. She laughed at everything, and it wasn't that funny, it just wasn't. I heard her in the bathroom after, and I wanted to say something, but I never would. So, I walked past the bistro next door, stared a bit longingly, as it is so lively on Friday nights, and with the weather so lovely all the people sit outside, and it's like a real cafe/bistro, and I can't possibly go there alone when it's like that, and that means I get on my cell phone (the main reason I LOVE having the thing) and order Chinese takeout from my car. My old favorites from the intown Chinese place, my Ma Po Tofu, Garlic Chicken, Hot and Sour Soup and Spring Rolls. So tired, not even terribly hungry, still, from having wolfed down the Cuban during the emissions extravangaza take two, yet I ate, and ate, and sat on the sofa and watched Marx Brothers movies on TCM with Norma, falling asleep, so satisfied, to "Animal Crackers", waking today, far too early, and watching a light indie on Sundance Channel. Now it's still early, earlier than I'd usually be up on a Saturday, and I got the tires out of the way (one was almost 100% bald, very scary), which I'd thought I'd have to do on a Saturday, and there's the big outdoor Festival in the park, and I want to go, but I know how crowded it will be, and yet there is due to be some amazing bluegrass music later, and I love bluegrass, so I may just drive over to the train station and hop a train and make things happen. The horoscope says whatever I've put in motion will be successful, as long as I keep it going. I can't lose momentum on this. And, in closing, I would just like to add to this already long long long very documentation and thusly very boring entry about my most wondermous day yesterday, that this is the easiest PMS I've ever had. Aside from my telling the favorite coworker that kicking my cubicle wall as hard as she possibly can, in order to startle me, every time she passes, is incredibly irritating, and it always has been (and thank god for this, because it was the impetus for me canceling lunch with her and the others, and I never would have gotten the emissions and the tag yesterday otherwise!!!!), I've been very even tempered, very calm, and not horribly depressed and miserable. It's all been so very mild. So, there it is, the gist of it. Cost of the War in Iraq
(JavaScript Error)
Recent Entries: It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012 Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012 As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009 I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009 Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009 
  |