I preface this piece by letting you know that the names have been omitted here, to protect the innocent, and the less so.
Have you ever had one of those days? Sure you have. We all have. Maybe you call it Monday. Well, I had one on Friday this week.
My ex-father-in-law is fond of saying that "life is a test." He's a type A personality, and lives his life to find ways to "beat the system," because he's hoping that the test is graded on a curve. I think he's a bit off the mark here, though. If you read the Good Book, you know that life is a SERIES of tests, and as our children are all headed back to school (at least here in Georgia), God has decided that this roughly thirty-six hour period is my final exam. Gee. I hope it's not the FINAL final, or this may be my epitaph. No pressure there.
"Those days" don't necessarily start when the alarm goes off in the morning. Mine actually started late Thursday, when I asked a co-worker if she would cut a spot for me. "I will if you say 'please,'" she responded.
To be fair, I didn't say "please," and my Momma did raise me better than that. Do you make a habit of saying "please" and "thank you" at work? We all should. It's really a painless process, and one that is beneficial to all concerned. I got to thinking about that on my long walk back to my desk, and realized that this is an opportunity to grow myself. I dashed off a quick e-mail, telling my co-worker that I appreciate her as a broadcaster, as a news writer and as a reporter. Even more so as a friend. This is all true, by the way. Don't take the time to do this if you can't be sincere. I also asked her to continue to call me out on my behavior if I don't improve. I believe that she appreciated the gesture, but more importantly, I have a terrific self-growth process in place. C-, but I'm allowed a "do-over."
I got home last night ready to bake some chicken. I'm on the Shred diet, with a very specific meal plan. But refrigerator and freezer space for all of the smoothie ingredients I've purchased is at a premium. My daughter left for school Tuesday, and space needed to be made.
What I SHOULD have done is boxed up the pizza and the ice cream, taken it into the freezer at work, and left a sticky note saying "Have at it, you vultures! Free food!" Did I do that? No. I reasoned that I could start fresh Monday, and devote the rest of my evening to ... well ... making space. I started urping at about midnight. F.
Right around 4 this morning, the dogs decided that it would be fun for me to get up. A responsible pet owner would have crated them the night before. F.
At 6, I wearily rose and began assembling their breakfasts. It was then that I noticed that one of them had already begun withdrawals before the morning's deposits had been made. And the cat had started again peeing on the sofa. Happy Friday, everybody!
7:15, I was out the door, ready to take on the world. Drove to Longstreet Cafe to pick up the traditional Friday breakfast. Realized that I didn't have my wallet. With my drivers' license. And electronic door key. Back to the apartment, where I fortunately realized I had also left my belt and my shoes. It's complicated. C.
8:00, two hours of water aerobics. Good workout, but because my Longstreet breakfast was a recent memory, I didn't really give it my all. During one of the classes, I had thoughtlessly appropriated a lady's swim noodle. Another test, I thought, remembering my incident with the co-worker yesterday. I made it a point to apologize to the lady, even though the instructions WERE to simply "grab a noodle on your way around the pool." She told me that was okay. "Just don't let it happen again." Giving myself an A on this one.
Finally, at lunch, I was home walking my dogs in front of my apartment when I was confronted with a very angry neighbor. I haven't done a very good job of meeting my neighbors, but that's not entirely my fault. They don't welcome newcomers with casseroles, and they're not inclined to what Larry David has dubbed "the stop and chat." And the Pomeranian I walk isn't much of a welcome wagon either.
As he screamed at me, the dog barked louder, making what he was saying unintelligible. I believe he was indicating that I was doing a subpar job cleaning up after my dogs. He pointed to a stray piece under his window, which was in the early stages of fossilization. I picked it up immediately, with the bag I ALWAYS carry with me. He went into his apartment, still muttering angrily and unintelligibly.
In my breast pocket right now is a note I've dashed off to him, apologizing for the incident, begging his forgiveness for my dogs, and atoning essentially for sharing oxygen with him. Basically, I'm leaning way over and pressing lips on his gluteus maximus, with all sincerity. I do, after all, intend to stay there, with my dogs, and would like to be a good neighbor. I also ask if my piano playing is vexing him and if my television is ever too loud. I don't know what the end result will be here, but for my effort, I'm rewarding myself an A.
It's now 3:37, roughly 24 hours, so since the "day" started about here yesterday, I cautiously breathe a sigh of relief and prepare to face the next one. One day of exams down, roughly eight thousand six hundred and fifty-two to go, by my approximation. Unless I get whacked by an angry neighbor before my time. Hope he at least sees the note.
