Sometimes, grief hits you like a punch to the face. It can come out of nowhere. Or something could happen like a friendship is lost or a trust broken…and that one act pulls in ALL the grief from before and mixes it together with your newfound sadness. It’s as if it’s always inside, ready to jump back out, even if that door is opened a mere millimeter. The grief is a monster that throws that door open a mile wide and floods your eyes, your heart and soul. Suddenly and unexpectedly, you feel all alone, and tethering that beast back into control takes a while….
Last night, I had a really strange, very real feeling dream. There were a bunch of parts to it, like I was watching a movie, but the last bit felt like the longest storyline.
I had moved to a small town—it reminded me of Weston, MO—charming, full of history, haunting, lovely…but it wasn’t Weston. I think it was actually someplace in Alaska, perhaps. Maybe even Longyearbyen on Svalbard. (I watch too many of Sejsejlija’s videos on TikTok about that place!) It was the type of small town where everyone was familiar with all who lived there—their residences, frequent hangout spots, etc.
Moving on, though…I was at the small grocery store, waiting in line to check out with a few items, when I heard a man speaking English with some sort of accent (Russian?). He was beginning to raise his voice at an employee, because he was upset they were out of stock of eggplants. I believe I briefly met this man earlier in my dream, and he had come across as a tough guy who was generally unhappy.
I left the line and walked towards the small commotion, because it occurred to me that I had had an eggplant in my cart earlier, then had set it somewhere it didn’t belong, when I had decided I didn’t want the vegetable.
On the way over to the man and employee, I grabbed the misplaced eggplant. When I arrived to the growing argument, I interrupted and explained how there was indeed still an eggplant in stock, and that I was very sorry I had misplaced it earlier.
That is when I handed it to the man. He seemed more relieved than anything, and proceeded to tell me that he had recently lost his grandmother and wanted to cook the eggplant how she used to, in homage of her.
Then, in a strange turn, as dreams like to do, he asked if I would help him out and cook it for him, as he was not adept in the kitchen.
To sort of make up for the havoc my earlier actions inevitably contributed to, I agreed to cook the eggplant. We exchanged numbers, so he could take his other groceries home, and I could also head to my home to prepare his Grandmother’s recipe.
Next thing I know, I’m in my kitchen, talking to this man on the phone, following cooking instructions his grandmother had left him. The eggplant definitely did NOT cook like a real eggplant! When I was done, it looked more like fried “chicken of the woods” (a mushroom, Laetiporus sulphureus—-yes, I had to Google that mushroom’s name)
As it was finishing, the man walks through my front door without even knocking! I made a mental note to start keeping that door locked. He had known where I lived, because earlier in the dream, my odd residence was a huge discussion. And as I mentioned, this was the type of town where everyone knew who lived where.
I divvied up the cooked eggplant between us, and we had dinner while standing in my living room, discussing memories of the departed and other topics I can’t quite recall.
This is where the dream became really odd…
While eating, an ex boyfriend of mine (who I haven’t seen since I was 19) walked through the door and asked to join us. We finished eating, and then the man (no, I never remembered his name) left and the ex and I discussed all the repairs my apartment needed.
An aside—from what I can gather, I lived in a very small, partly renovated loft atop an old building on the Main Street. The main, HUGE window had some stretchy canvas instead of glass, and the floor wasn’t finished, so I could only walk on certain spots in my living room/bedroom—sort of like an unfinished attic.
That’s pretty much it—that’s my dream. My cat woke me, so she could be fed breakfast, before the dream’s plot could go any further.
Just One’s Everyday Commute
This morning, I found myself in a familiar spot–sitting in my car at one of the four-way stops that litter the beginning of my commute. An SUV driven by a woman I’ve never seen before in my life stopped at her sign just after I stopped at mine. We then both proceeded to drive forward at the same time. This is not uncommon–often, four-way stops are a flurry of either entitlement or consideration. In this case, I stopped to let her drive through the intersection first. As she did, she looked to her left, in my direction, and glared over at me with an angry face that reminded me, for some reason, of an evil Bert from Sesame Street. She was mouthing something I couldn’t make out, but I’m sure it wasn’t anything like “Thanks, have a nice day!” At the same time, I was mouthing (with a baffled look on my face), “But I was there first…”
My next emotion was initially anger. How dare she be a Pissy Patty at me, when she is the one who moved out of turn? That only lasted about 30 seconds, though. As I moved forward with my drive, thankfully in a different direction than the other driver, the feelings turned to only confusion. I asked myself, “Why was she actually angry?” I mean…I stopped moving forward so that she could continue. I imagine maybe she thought that she stopped first (wasn’t the case, in my view), but it WAS very close! Nothing bad happened, though. She was able to go on her way without an issue–I didn’t flip her off or give her any mean looks, and we didn’t have a wreck or anything. She either had had a terrible morning prior to the four-way stop, or she was just angry to be angry, or maybe she is a very ANTI-MORNING person. Whatever the reason, I decided I’m not letting it keep me angry or put me in a bad mood. And even though I DO wish for some birds to poop in hard-to-clean places on her car, today, for Karma’s sake, I can accept that she was angry without letting it anger me, in turn. Feels like a personal breakthrough, to be honest. Happy Friday!
All I wanted this morning was to peacefully read my book while drinking coffee on the front porch.
It was not to be…
Recently, my boyfriend and I have noticed wasps getting between the front door and screen door. Those little jerks keep trying to build their nest in there. We are not sure how they keep getting in.
Yesterday evening, when the beloved pizza I had ordered was dropped off on my porch, I opened the main door to retrieve said deliciousness. I came face to face AGAIN with a wasp buzzing within the doors! I slammed the door shut, quickly, and ran to the kitchen to find a “weapon”. I marched back to the front door, opened it, and battled the flying, stupid stinger-face with a can of Lysol. IT DIDNT KILL IT!!! At least, not right away—the fucker flew off like “no big deal”. I think it had a smirk on its face.
So, of course I felt trepidatious this morning while approaching the front door, but as I peeked out of the very slightly opened cracked, there was no evil bug to be found. Breathing a sigh of relief, I grabbed a chair to set up outside. (I seriously need to invest in some outdoor furniture.) Then, I entered the house to procure my book and coffee, and stepped back onto the porch, then nestled into my chair, ready to enjoy the morning’s fresh air and bird sounds.
As you can probably guess, this was a short-lived peace…
With the possibility of wasps still in the back of my mind, I was wary of any buzzing sound I heard. This felt like the opposite of relaxation. I had hoped that wasps are creatures that like to sleep in. If I were an evil insect, I would prefer to do my dastardly deeds under the cover of night and sleep away the sunrise!
There was suddenly a very loud buzzing that flew past my ear! NOPE!!! That’s all I needed to scuffle back inside to my couch! If ONLY it was that simple…
I stood up, still holding my very full cup of coffee and my book, and headed towards the door—the entrance to my stinger-free kingdom! Before I could even reach for the knob of the screen door, a bee was circling me. This is okay, because bees are important insects—not evil ones who sting without cause. Pretty sure the cute, little thing was merely interested in my coffee, which had been sweetened with copious amounts of creamer. So for a moment, I froze, until the yellow fuzzy butt lost interest and flew away.
Okay…the buzzing I had heard was just a bee. Phew! I relaxed and decided I would still head indoors to avoid the risk of becoming a hub of coffee nectar for any other curious insects. I opened the screen door…
BAM!!! HUGE FUCKING WASP JUST WAITING FOR ME!! He tricked me!! He wanted me to think all was safe when NOOOOOOOO!!!! I swear that smirk was still on its face.
Of course, I immediately proceeded to splash all of my coffee onto the porch while letting out a yelp and slammed the door shut, putting the screen between this wasp and the world! I NEVER ASKED FOR A STINGING SENTINEL TO GUARD MY KINGDOM!
Any onlookers to this situation would have seen a girl with still messy bed head hair, who was still wearing her pajamas, fling her coffee to the world while screaming and then run to the side of the house like some sort of mental case. Thank goodness no one saw…I don’t think.
Luckily, Justin heard the commotion and immediately answered my frantic pounding on the side door.
The wasp still guards my door. My dining room chair still sits outside on the front porch.
A Prince’s Meal
The other day, J and I took his kiddo to the library for a little while to enjoy some books. When we walked in, I glanced over the rows of children’s books, nostalgia taking hold. I remember wandering through aisles like those when I was shorter than the shelves, and picking out hardback-covered books full of my favorite characters like Clifford and Amelia Bedelia.
In total, Lil Guy picked out about 5-6 books to read. We carried them to the comfy chairs set up at the south end of the library to have some adventures in our imaginations. Among the books chosen, there was one that involved a Prince and his eating habits. I will not name the book or the author here, but I’m sure you can google it and figure out what it is.
This book begins with our main characters, the Prince (who is around five or six years old) and his mother and father. It tells of how the Prince will only eat dry toast and nothing else, because he is such a picky eater. Throughout the pages, the King and Queen take their son to various lands so that he may try all the fare of the entire world, from the western hemisphere to the eastern!
At this point, I’m thinking “Wow! What a nice way to introduce different food cultures to young children!”
But, at every part of the world, the Prince refuses to eat a thing. Absolutely nothing. As much as his mother and father rave about the tastes and the wonders, he remains stubborn, with his mouth shut tight.
Here is where I begin to think, “How the fuck is this kid still alive?? It takes several, several days to travel the world, especially since they aren’t flying!! He couldn’t possibly be alive if he didn’t eat SOMEthing!! Is there a part of the book where the parents are making him eat?? Is he sneaking food and just messing with his parents so he can travel the world??? This kid must be malnourished as fuck!”
Towards the end of the book, the last place the family visits is Africa. The boy has yet to give in and try anything whatsoever. His parents keep trying and trying, showing them their faces of pleasure and how much they are enjoying the wonderful cuisine. They urge and urge the young Prince, but to no avail.
At this part in the book, I’m thinking, “This must have a Dr. Seuss sort of twist and any moment, the boy will finally give in, try something, and then be so delighted that they would travel back to all the places and he would happily eat everything presented to him. A sort of “Sam I Am” affect! Where else could the story possibly go??”
Then, I turned the page.
What happened next was a native of the country, someone who appeared to be an old, wise man, came strolling by. He asked what was wrong, and the parents explained their plight.
“Here is the moment.” I thought. “The moment where the wise old man convinces the young boy to merely taste ONE morsel…and it will all be over from there. You shall have your day, Sam I Am!!!”
But continued to read, I saw the picture of the old man pull a bottle from his bag. A red bottle. (I looked at J, and he was making the same face as me. A face that said “Wait a second…is that…?? NO! No Fucking way!….”
WAY.
It was a damn bottle of Ketchup!!! The “wise” man explained to the kid that he could just PUT KETCHUP ON EVERYTHING, AND IT WOULD TASTE GOOD!! The Prince totally fell for it!! He tried the ketchup, and loved it, and proceeded to put KETCHUP on ALL OF THE WORLDLY FOODS!!
At the end of the book, J and I were both flabbergasted!!!! Of course, J’s Lil Guy didn’t see an issue and was ready for the next book. (Thank GOODNESS, I don’t THINK it put any subconscious thoughts in his mind.)
I couldn’t help but continue to wonder, though… WHAT was the point of that?? Were they TRYING to teach kids that it’s okay to not eat what’s put in front of you, unless there is ketchup on it?? Was the author saying that KETCHUP is the God of all foods!! That it is some magic liquid that makes all the vile tastes of the world magnificent??
SERIOUSLY!!????
I’m sure the author has a child who only eats ketchup on everything, and decided to write about it. But for the LOVE OF MAN, why would you want to spread that as a message to young minds!!???
It should have been cheese. ;)
Just the Tip
When I exited my car, there was nothing unusual about the night. It was around nine o’clock, and my intentions were to spend the remainder of the evening watching television with The Boyfren, while sipping beer and laughing profusely (because Rick & Morty).
It was the perfect plan for a Monday.
As I stood up from the driver’s seat, I glanced into the neighbor’s driveway. What sat there, curiously peering at me, was a fuzzy brown and white cat. It made me smile. I had seen this cat before and knew that was a sweet one. I quickly made plans in my head to pet this kitty before heading into the house.
While devising my strategy for approaching the feline without scaring it away, and watching the cat to make sure I knew where it went if it moved, I absentmindedly swung my car door shut…RIGHT ONTO MY PINKY FINGER!! I’m not talking a “shut and bounce back due to finger being in the way” sort of swing, either! That fucker LATCHED on me!!!
My initial reaction was shock! As quickly as it happened, I reached over with my other hand and opened the door, freeing my now-bleeding pinky finger. Luckily, I had smashed just the tip. (Zing!)
At this point, I was thinking to myself that the cute cat could go fuck itself! It was probably laughing inside with the most adorably evil kitty laugh.
Now my goals for the next hour changed from petting cats and laughing at television to the following:
- Do not klutzily hit finger on any object while rushing into the restroom.
- Assess the wound.
- Do not faint.
- Clean the wound.
- Continue NOT fainting.
- Bandage the wound.
- Seriously follow through on the not-fainting goal.
- Make Boyfren bring ice pack and pain-numbing shots of liquor to me for the rest of the night.
- Do not faint.
I know it can be difficult to achieve all of one’s goals in a night, but I can say I succeeded this time.
Now, three days later, I have a black and purple fingernail, and a pinky that is truly pissed at me for typing this up…because it hurts.
New life goals to add to already existing ones:
- Stop breaking fingers.
- Do not be distracted by cats when car doors are open.
- Do not faint.
Evil Lurks
I swear, there was murder in its eyes—all eight of its eyes lusted for my blood. I didn’t see him at first, but I could feel that evil gaze as soon as I walked into my bedroom. I had just exited the shower and my only goal was to dry my hair in peace. As I reached for the hair-dryer, I glanced something dark and sinister in my peripheral vision. It was above me, on the wall—the most fuzzy, black arachnid I had ever seen! He wasn’t gigantic, but he was formidable in size enough so that I jumped back in terror. Staring directly at me, he began to move across the wall in my direction. He was either murderous, completely pervy, or BOTH!
It was decision time! This spider had to go! I grabbed a shoe…but then I stopped. If I smacked at this thing and missed, it would merely fall to the floor, and would land directly in my open bins full of makeup, etc. At that point, he could potentially escape into the mess of things, recuperate, and then carry out his revenge on me later as I slept!
What were my other options? He was too high on the wall for me to try to catch him and release him to the wild. I could have gone to the next room to grab some sort of bug spray with which I could attack him, but I was afraid that if I turned my back at all, he would escape and hide from me, while of course plotting my demise. My contemplations increased, and I began to panic.
This is the instant, that crucial turning point, where the boyfren walked into my house. That moment looked like this:
He walked up to my bedroom door (unbeknownst to me) and peered in, puzzled, to find that I was standing there stark naked, holding one shoe like a baseball about to be pitched, but frozen in place, staring up at the wall, and yelling at my cats, “Why don’t you two do your jobs?? Why can’t you track down and kill the spiders?? YOU HAVE ONE RESPONSIBILITY IN THIS HOUSE BESIDES LICKING YOUR ASSHOLES, AND THAT IS TO KILL THE CREEPY/CRAWLY THINGS!!!”
With poise and ease, Justin grabbed a Kleenex, and disposed of the murderous perv-spider. JUST LIKE THAT! As if it was a simple gesture!
My hero!
Now…I simply wait for the spider’s family to avenge his death. They always do. (Isn’t this like the tenth blog I’ve written about spiders????)
Monday Wins
This morning, I awoke ready for more sleep (typical). I had to muster all my strength just to drag myself out of bed and into the shower. I had just finished shaving one of my legs when something abruptly startled me. An alarm started loudly to go off! Sounding repeatedly, it was an ear-piercing, dreadful beeping that nearly made me fall to the ground in surprise. I immediately turned off the water in the shower and grabbed a towel (Fuck it—I’ll just leave this soap all over myself!), all while the huge beep resounded in the house. At this point, I wasn’t sure if I was hearing the blasting of a smoke alarm or the carbon monoxide detector, and started to wonder if I was going to keel over dead right there on the spot!
The cats were freaking out. They both darted around like little bolts of black and white fur lighting. It was a further challenge for me not to trip on the little punks.
I bolted to the origin of the sound, dripping a trail of water as I moved along, and HOPING my feet wouldn’t slip out from under me! I found where the noise was originating and was slightly relieved to realize it was indeed the smoke alarm, and not some “hidden odorless killer gas alarm”. I snatched the it from the wall, and pressed the button. No change!! Still an enormous BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!!!!!
“What, what whaaaat??? Why doesn’t the reset button work?? Is there invisible smoke here?? Is this thing haunted?? AM I ABOUT TO DIE????”
There was no other choice… I had to disassembling the thing. I couldn’t pull it apart at first, and my ears thought they were dying from the loud noise reverberating through the house! I momentarily debated on throwing it against the ground as hard as I could to try to break it open, while at the same time vaguely wondering if blood was dripping out of my ear canals, because the sound felt THAT painful! After some seconds of fumbling, I was finally able to remove the battery, and that made the insanity-invoking bleeps stop!
In short, this was me this morning:
Naked, dripping soapy water all over the floor, battling a smoke alarm, hoping not to die with only one shaved leg.
Happy Monday, Ya’ll!
Cousin Wisdom
One of my life-long best friends is my cousin, Jessie. Ever since we were small, we have managed to inadvertently involve ourselves in shenanigans. Most recently, I realized that this has never changed through all these years! Our daily lives are busy, so we don’t see each other as often as when we were young, but when we DO get together, things just…happen! Some things I’ve learned from my cousin over the years, in NO particular order:
- When driving around a sharp curve in a three-wheeled golf cart, don’t speed.
- If you partially tip a golf cart so that your passenger and the tin of cookies they’re carrying fly to the ground, gather the spilled cookies back into the tin and tell no one.
- People can’t tell the difference in taste when cookies have been spilled in the dirt if you pick out all the rocks and leaves. In other words, family members enjoy dirt cookies just as much as regular shortbread cookies.
- If you have a pillow fight, don’t use a down-filled pillow. The quill portion of some of the small feathers WILL scratch the fuck out of your face.
- Nail-polish doesn’t stay on turtles’ shells forever.
- If it is your first time ever getting drunk, stay away from the Goldschlager, no matter how pretty you think those flakes of gold look when drinking directly from the bottle.
- Do NOT try to use the turntables at a party when drunk on Goldschlager. It WILL sound like a train wreck. This is not arguable.
- Fad diets that include bacon don’t actually work.
- When driving several hours to pick up a recently purchased puppy, be aware that you are entering banjo territory. There are several places a body can be buried.
- If you get pulled over for speeding, but have a puppy in the car, you will not get a ticket.
- Osceola Cheese employees will be pissed off if you arrive to taste their cheeses 5 minutes before they close.
- Speed limits don’t actually exist. Not even when driving a Uhaul.
- When moving heavy objects in a garage, avoid trash cans that contain gigantic shards of glass, aka ass shanks.
- Pulling your pants down to reveal a glass-shard ass-shanking will elicit NO pity.
- If someone accidentally locks the Uhaul keys inside the vehicle while parked in a shady neighborhood, the Locksmith who comes to “rescue” you will probably rip you off.
- Uhaul doesn’t keep spare keys.
- There are questionable characters wandering around storage spaces–ones who recently lost money and will yell about it at random while wanting to punch things.
- Veterinary offices in banjo-land ONLY accept checks or cash. They also ironically have dead animals on the wall.
- One cannot fit three truckloads of stuff into a 5’ by 10’ space.
- It’s okay to spend three hours at a restaurant, while laughing 85% of the time.
Classy…Maybe?
We (my band and I) played a show last Saturday night. It went extremely well, and the venue was spectacular.
Well…except one, teensy thing…
When I arrived, there was an hour before we took the stage. The crowd in the room was thick, and pushing my way through the steampunk-themed guests was a challenge. Approximately 10 minutes passed before I made my way from the front door to the coat rack and then to the back of the room, where the stage was set up. At that time, it occurred to me that Mother Nature was calling. I glanced around the area and could not find where the restrooms were located. I found someone who had been there since the event began and asked, discovering that they were near the entrance of the huge hall, from where I’d just fought through throngs of people to escape to the stage!
Well…it’s either fight my way back through the hoards or pee my panties…
So the challenge was on! I felt like a rogue, helplessly outnumbered, darting and squeezing through the crowd. Five minutes later, I was back to the front of the building, and soon, I knew, sweet release would come my way!
I ambled into the Women’s room, and immediately headed to the furthest stall. On my final approaching step, my foot slipped from under me! Stumbling slightly, I did not fall to the ground, but that is how I noticed there was a puddle there. I glanced at the water under my foot with momentary puzzlement, and then peered into the stall. The toilet bowl was filled to the brim with water! It had obviously overflowed at one point and the damage had not yet been contained.
FUCK!!! I’m standing in piss-water!!??? (At that moment, I had a flashback to the last time something like this happened to me: https://leahwould.com/2014/11/18/1321/ )
Nature was still calling at that moment, and I decided to put the fact out of my mind that someone else’s diluted urine was now on my shoe. I entered the second stall, and at a glance, re-exited a split second later.
This one, too???
A quick peek into the final open stall confirmed my fear—all three toilets were filled to the brim with light-yellow water and wads of toilet paper.
Oh Fucking Craptastic! I have THREE People’s diluted piss-water on my shoe!!!!!!!
I had to find a different bathroom, and fast, because if I didn’t, I’d be adding more UNDILUTED piss to my shoes…and the floor. I looked at the sink for a moment.
Hmm…that COULD be…NO! No effing way… I was NOT peeing in the sink at an upscale fucking venue!! Put the thought out of your mind, Leah! JEEZ!!!
I rushed out of the room and immediately reported the issue to the table of volunteers next to the front door. When I asked where a different bathroom was located, I received three bewildered stares. These girls had no idea where another one was. I’m willing to bet they were starting to panic, themselves, due to the fact that drinks were in abundance and they would likely need the facilities soon as well.
One of them pointed towards a man in a police uniform and told me that he might know where another bathroom could be found. I asked him, and his response was unexpected. I figured maybe there was a single stall upstairs…or somewhere in the back of the building.
NO.
He explained that the bathroom I could use would be found in a different building altogether! I had to walk outside in the freezing cold temperature, while wearing my short, sleeveless dress and heels, to the end of the block, and into that corner building! That is where I would find salvation.
OH! Is that all!!?
Not to mention I was still holding back Niagra Falls, because at this point, the entire can of Monster Energy Drink I’d slammed in under 10 minutes beforehand had decided to rear its ugly head in the form of “YOU GOTTA PEE NOW!!!!”
So I began the trek down the block. The temperature was bitter and the wind chill was even worse.
Well…at least if I piss myself, it’ll probably freeze instantly into a giant pee-cicle that I could merely chuck down that alleyway or something…
I arrived at the corner building, and walked into the front door. In the back of that room, I saw a group of ladies in a huddle, talking. I assumed they were there for the bathroom, too.
“Hi! Are you waiting for the bathroom??”
They all gave me a knowing smile and said that they were finished with that single-room restroom…. But there was criteria to using it…
Criteria???? What?? There are bathroom rules for using the BACKUP Bathroom??? What the fuck??
One woman continued, “The water pipes leak, so you have to turn the water off after using the bathroom. It’s turned off now, so just turn it Lefty Loosy (Yes, she felt the need to tell me which way to turn it, as if I was some sort of idiot.) to turn the water back on, and be careful, because it sprays out a bit when you do that, and then when done, turn it Righty tighty! Remember, Lefty loosy first, and then righty tighty when finished!” (I am quoting this person.)
I nodded, but pretty sure my mouth was agape at the fact that not only was this bathroom messed up, but the way this woman talked to me like a child was seriously disturbing.
I entered the bathroom as the gaggle of women exited the building. Sure enough, as I turned the water on, there was a bit of a spray-back, but I dodged it. I smiled, because FINALLY, I would have reprieve.
And I did….
As I finished, I heard another group of people walk into the next room. I made mental note to tell them about the water situation as I walked to the sink to wash my hands.
While distracted by my thoughts, I pumped the soap….IT SHOT STRAIGHT TOWARDS ME!! The soap’s aim was apparently NOT my hand that was poised underneath its spout, but instead, my dress and legs!!
I stood, frozen, for just a moment, with soap on the bottom of my dress and running down my leg!
Fuck!! I have to take the stage in thirty minutes, and now I look like I have a load of jizz all over me!! DAMN IT!!!!!!! And where are the paper towels!!???
Frantically, I look around the tiny room. After thirty seconds of sheer panic, I found refuge in a small cabinet. I wipe my legs and frantically scrubbed at the bottom of my black (with a now-whitish spot) dress. I can hear the people outside of the door becoming impatient.
I peered down at my dress, thankful that the lights onstage should hide the fact that there was now a guilty-looking spot in a not-very-inconspicuous place.
Fuck it.
I made my exit.
I gave a quick warning about the broken water and the soap monster, all the while not making eye contact with the new victims of the bathroom. Hopefully their luck would be better than mine.
Soon after this debacle, I took the stage, and I held everything in my bladder for the rest of the night.
A Fate of Fire
It’s never a pleasant experience to wake up and realize you slept in the wrong position. The body decides to punish this mistake by throwing a kink in your neck…or your shoulder…or BOTH. This was me on Saturday morning. Then it followed me all day….like a little kink-puppy.
I made the assumption that another night’s sleep would force it away. We all know what assuming does, though, and Sunday morning brought the pain! I stretched, I massaged it, I rolled my back with a foam roller, and even rolled a tennis ball under my shoulder blade. (THIS was extremely painful as well.) All this to no avail.
Luke offered to drive to the store and purchase some muscle rub cream, and I consented. Upon his return, the cream was rubbed into my neck, right shoulder, and part of my back.
What came next was not expected. My skin burst into metaphorical flames!
Holy shit!! This is how this works?? They distract you from your regular pain by giving you pain that is equal to what one finds in the depths of hell??? Or was I turning into a lava beast!??
Damn; damn; damn!! Lava beasts can’t have pet cats! Or boyfriends…or any friends, for that matter!! I wasn’t ABOUT to let this happen.
I began to frantically wipe at my skin with a towel.
Luke looked at me, questioningly. “Don’t do that! You’ll wipe it off!”
“That’s sort of the POINT!! It’s trying to kill me! It wants to ruin my LIFE!!!”
I had demon slime on my skin, and he wanted me to LEAVE it there!!? NO!!!
Luke then explained that creams like IcyHot had about 2.5% of the working ingredient, and the cream I had slathered all over my skin contained 10% of the stuff!
Lashes!! I’d been given lashes with whips covered in razor blades and fire!! This was no cream! It was all a lie!! How did I manage to consent to this!!??
I wanted to curl into a fetal position while cuddling with ice cubes, but I resisted. If I could get through this, then I could handle anything. A walk on the sun would be mere child’s play to me after THIS! In fact, the sun would have to be my home. A lava monster can’t live on earth.
The minutes seemed like years. I sat there, burning, and contemplating my fate.
Finally, slowly, but surely…it ended. I survived. I conquered.
Today, my neck continues to hurt. I’ll let it. I’ve been to hell. I’m not going back. I escaped the fate of becoming the Lava Monster.
Now, I face Monday.
Related: I have some CVS Muscle Rub in my purse, currently, if anyone else wants to taste death. I’m keeping it handy for my enemies.
Something Happened Today…
It was unavoidable.
And, all I really wanted was lunch.
If I had known what was waiting for me, I might’ve just delayed awhile before trekking across the street to my favorite food place.
My co-worker, Reagan, and I decided to go to Chipotle around 11:00 in an attempt to avoid the massive amounts of online orders that create their huge, slow-moving lines.
So far, this was a normal journey. A lovely journey, in fact!
It was a cloudy day and very light sprinkles were falling. With the hot weather lately, it felt great! All was right with the world, and I had no major concerns! Plus, it was Friday!!
Things were too perfect.
I should have taken that as a warning…
**Entered Chipotle.**
**Ordered food.**
**Wanted to drool and devour food right then and there, but decided to walk it back across the street to work and consume at my desk.**
**Exited restaurant.**
Let me give you an idea of what this walk looks like, after exiting the restaurant. There is an intersection where construction is currently happening. An entire corner is destroyed, and walking across the street in that part of the intersection is impossible. I have to cross two streets in order to return to my work building, and at this point in time, there is only ONE path available. (I walk south to cross the first street, then turn west to cross the second street.)
As Reagan and I began to stroll across, she points out the people directly in front of us across the first street, who I had not even noticed, because my mind was on the three soft tacos full of double chicken and deliciousness.
Right before my eyes, on the corner of the street, was a gigantic van, a man with a massive video camera, and a woman with a microphone.
Shit. The guy was recording the street. I just hoped and prayed to myself at that moment that I WASN’T in the shot. The last thing anyone needed to see was a video of me waddling across the street towards them.
Reagan spoke under her breath, “We should try to avoid them.”
(Wise words, Reagan…wise words…)
I nodded in agreement, just as some guy in an SUV drove by them (and us) yelling, “Take 2! Take 2!” I had to laugh as I heard the cameraman say “Everyone’s a critic.” I’m pretty sure he meant to say “comedian”, but that’s beside the point.
At that moment, avoiding the news-people had become unavoidable. The light wasn’t yet green in the direction we needed to walk. THERE WAS NOWHERE TO GO! We were stuck on the corner, uncomfortably waiting. That is when the reporter woman sauntered right up to us and asked us if we knew that this particular intersection was going to become a four way stop-light. I told her I had no idea, and she immediately asked to interview me.
What was I supposed to say???
Well…THIS……*Sigh*…..THIS……. is what I said:
“Uh…sure…okay…um….oh GAWD….” (I gave a wide-eyed expression at the camera.)
I hoped the camcorder wasn’t recording at that moment. She reassured me, saying it was just a few easy questions.
(This is the part where Reagan is just standing behind the news-people, cleverly staying out of the camera’s shot….because she’s definitely smarter than me!!)
The first question was just asking me my name. I HAD TO THINK ABOUT IT!!!!! (In my defense, my last name DID just change back to “Wood”, due to my recent finalization of my divorce, but STILL….I HAD TO THINK ABOUT IT!) AND she told me to spell it…and I almost spelled it like “Would”! Derp derp derp!
I immediately regretted my decision to do this. I was NOT prepared to stand and talk in front of a camera with a microphone in my face. PLUS, my tacos were getting cold.
The rest of the interview went a LITTLE something like this:
Reporter: Do you walk on these streets very often?
Me: *smiles* Um….oh…yeah…yes…I walk down here all the time, because Chipotle is right over there! (I pointed and smiled way too big.)
Reporter: So do you work around here?
Me: Yes, I work in that building right there. (More pointing, more goofy, huge smiling.)
Reporter: Do you ever ride a bicycle down here?
Me: Hahahaha! Oooh no! Nope!! (Shook my head a bit TOO vigorously at that point.) I just walk down here for lunch…at Chipotle…because…it’s…right…there….(more pointing).
Reporter: Do you feel like you’ll be safe crossing the street when the intersection is changed?
Me: Oh! I love the Pedestrian crossing signs!!
Reporter: Those will be taken out.
(I had the deer in the headlights look at this point.)
Me: Well! As long as those drivers watch where they’re goin’!! (I’m pretty sure I said this in a Southern accent, and I have no IDEA where that came from!)
I don’t remember what else she asked, You Guys. I kind of blanked it out. Something about 4-way stops and maybe other things…I DON’T KNOW! Panic was happening inside of me at that point, and my memory is gone!! Maybe they were aliens. I don’t fucking KNOW!!!!!
All I DO know is that I may or may not end up on KCTV5 tonight, talking a VERY little bit about the intersection, and a very LOT a bit about how, “OH yeah…I walk down here every day! I eat Chipotle EVERY Day!! GOTTA GET THAT HOT CHIPTOPIA STATUS!! FUCK YEAH CHIPOOOOOOOOTLEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!”
That’s not what I said…but it’s EXACTLY what my hungry eyes said. And since the camera adds ten pounds, know what people are going to see/hear if the news decides to use this footage??!!
“Leah and her chubby cheeks fucking adore Chipotle so much and who cares about a road and a four way stop, because all she wants to do is EAT ALL THIS CHIPOTLE and babble like an idiot in front of a camera!”
I’m just hoping when they re-watch this footage, they’ll decide to interview someone else, and they’ll be completely regretting the fact that they even considered talking to me, a chubby, Chipotle-loving whacko.
Cat Fail and Paw-Webs
My cats have ONE job in order to contribute to the household. Just ONE. And that job is to be the murderous, ferocious felines that they were born to be and kill any insect or spider that crosses their paths! My cats are failures.
**Cat sees spider crawling across the floor.**
Neko Cat thought: “Hmm…what is this?….I’ll touch it…. huh….it is still moving…I think I need treats.”
Buddy Cat thought: “What is that idiot, Neko, doing? Those crawly things taste like shit. I barfed one up earlier. I think we need some treats.”
And then I’m left to chase after and dispose of said spider. This happened several times in the past day. I can’t even figure out what kind of spiders these are, but they all match! They’re all in the same family, and apparently all out to get me!
I made the mistake of google imaging American Spiders to try to figure out the type I have running rampant. This was a poor decision, it turns out, because now I have creepy-crawly feelings all over my skin. **shudders**
What’s worse is that I couldn’t find the spider that resembled my new, little house creatures. This most likely means I have a BRAND NEW, NEVER BEFORE IDENTIFIED species of spider swarming into my house. They could potentially be DEADLY…or…they could potentially give me super powers so that I can have a 6-pack overnight and then subsequently swing around on tall buildings. I’m not sure which, but I’m still not keen on the idea of being bitten.
Then again…okay…spiders, you can bite me if you give me super powers! But only THEN is it okay! And do it while I’m sleeping…on some part of my body where it won’t hurt much. DON’T BITE MY CATS!! The last thing I need is my fat furr-balls flying around the air on little paw-webs. There’s no WAY I’d be able to hide the treats from them then! And could you imagine the mess they would make!?? There’d be furry webs EVERYWHERE! My place would end up looking like the cave of Shelob from LoTR!
DO YOU HEAR ME, MYSTERY ARACHNIDS??? YOU’D BETTER BE SUPER-SPIDERS OR GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!
Roller Skate Limbo
Do you guys remember the whole “Junior High Skating Rink” scene? Remember all the games they’d try to get everyone to play? I wasn’t bad at roller skating, but I tended to steer clear of those. I just knew better…I knew my limitations.
The one game that sticks out in my memory most is Limbo. You always knew who was going to win, after just the first round. It was ALWAYS that fucking girl who could do the splits on skates. Yeah…..and STILL, everyone wanted to give it a whirl and play. I never understood that. I mean, seriously? You think CROUCHING, which puts you an entire foot higher than split-girl, is going to win it?? You think you have a CHANCE?? No. You just had to line up and HOPE that the split-girl wasn’t there. (It never worked out that way, though. She was ALWAYS there.)
Or how about the kids who didn’t KNOW HOW to skate!? They’d tip-tap-tip-tap-tip-tap…
TIP TAP TIP TAP TIP TIP TIP….
TIP TIP TIP TIP TIP……….TAP……………….TIP…………………………………….CLUNK!
They’d be moving one INCH an hour, just to eventually knock the fucking stick to the ground and be called out in the very beginning. To the parents who made their youngsters give it a whirl when they KNEW their kid couldn’t skate, nice job on lowering THAT self-esteem!
Then there were the kids who refused to believe they’d been tagged out. It’d be obvious to EVERYONE that this kid touched the damn stick….and the person working the game would tell them to get off the rink with a little point of the finger. That kid’s thinkin’ “Nah……I’m getting back in line….WHADDYA GONNA DO!!??” Because, what COULD they do? Throw the seven year old kid out on the street? Ha! At the end of the game, it’d be THAT kid, and split-girl….and it’d go for ten more fucking rounds, while everyone else just stands around wondering when it was going to end!
Mondayne
Until I have another story to tell, the random ramblings will ensue.——————-
Here we are again. The first Monday of work for the year. So far, it hasn’t been horrible. I slept wrong and have a kink in my neck. I had a message about low tire pressure when I got into the freezing car this morning. Then, there was no coffee made when I arrived at work. Also, my phone is refusing to go into silent mode, so I have to keep headphones plugged into it at my desk so that my text sound is constantly dinging. It’s 8:15am.
The good things that have already happened: I remembered my 2016 Kitten calendar to hang at my desk, I’ve obtained an order for Girl Scout Thin Mints, AND a coworker of mine is STILL finding glitter from when I helped booby trap his desk over a week ago. It’s now 8:16am.
And then there are the ramblings:
~Holy shit!! I totally forgot that I have 3 Monsters in the refrigerator here at work!!! This Monday just got three times BETTER!!!!!!
~I think I might’ve just found my first gray hair. I’m not positive, because when I did a double glance in the mirror, it had already run off and hidden under my regular hairs. I’m sure it realizes that as soon as I find it, I shall PLUCK IT OUT and deny its existence!!! Or perhaps the lights were playing tricks on me, and it really doesn’t exist. I’ll hope for the latter.
~I emptied my shred box today. Good news: There were no sneak-attacks from scary spiders this time!
~It is taking EVERYTHING IN ME right now to NOT grab five bags of chips and eat them all! I have to give myself pep talks:
“Leah…you have an apple. It’s plenty. You don’t need the salty goodness of chips. Do you want to lose weight or not??”
“Well..yeah, but…”
“NO BUTS!”
“I can smell them…their smell is beckoning me.”
“NO, you can’t. You don’t have the nose of a hound dog. All those chips are packaged up and sealed. You can’t smell them.”
“Have you SEEN the size of my nose?? I mean seriously! It’s possible I’m smelling those chips. Something smells like potatoes and cheese and salt and Doritos!”
“NO…you aren’t smelling anything from that snack bar. You smell someone’s lunch, and it doesn’t even SMELL like any of that! It smells like fucking Microwave Asian Zing shit! That’s the smell of MSG and despair!!”
“I could have sworn that was Lays potatoes I smelled. I really wants Lays. I WANNA GET LAYS!”
“You don’t NEED to get Lays! Forget about it.”
“Yes, I do. I need to get Lays!”
“Use a different conjugation of that word, and you MIGHT be correct!”
“……..Heh….”
————————
~I’m back at my desk now. No Lays. Just a fucking apple.
LeahWould 