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Day #343: Pass the Cheese, I Brought the Wine

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The Story:

"Because Tuesday was just Monday 2.0"

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:     I am soooo ready for this string of crappy days to be over. So newsflash Tuesday, I’m over you. Just like I was over your bitch of a sister, Monday. You both suck toenails. I’m ready for some good news, some positive energy, and some relief from a sinus headache that insists on rearing its ugly head at least once a week to the point I can barely manage to function in my darkened cave-like office. So bring on Wednesday, I ready. And to celebrate the death of the twin crappy sisters Monday & Tuesday, I’m treating myself to a much needed and deserved glass of cab sav… or maybe two. Wine- it’s one of the perks of being a grown-up.

Love & Squirrels.

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Day #181: Oddity, I Think…

The Story:

It was a day full of mystery, and not the good kind. Just one oddity after another, making Rachel wonder if her reality was somehow a fraction out of sync with the rest of the worlds’. It began in the first few hours of the morning, when typing away at her desk she noticed a dark smudge on her upper arm. Upon further inspection Rachel discovered a bruise, about the size of a large thumbprint, was ripening into a purple knot. “Ouch,” she muttered to herself as she rubbed her arm absently, “where did that come from?” she wondered.

The second mystery, should you wish to call it that, occurred less than two hours later. Needing a bit of a ‘pick-me-up’, Rachel plucked a dollar from her purse and made her way to the office break room. Scanning the soda selection, she decided on a Coke Zero and inserted her dollar. Pressing the button she waited for the can to drop, and waited, and waited. “What the deuce?” Giving the machine an obligatory kick with the side of her foot, Rachel frowned and punched the dispenser button for each kind of soft drink without any results. Feeling robbed, Rachel tried the ‘change returned’ button a few times before giving up in a huff. A dollar down and a caffeine headache on the horizon, Rachel was not a happy camper.

Resigning herself to a cup of tap water from the break room sink, Rachel tried to choke down a gulp before gagging on the notoriously sulfur-infused Florida water. “I’d rather die of thirst”, she thought to herself as she dumped her cup out in the sink and headed back to her office. The rest of her day was one interruption after another until finally, she found some time to grab a bit to eat and cloister herself in her office for much needed lunch break.

Closing her office door, Rachel sat back behind her desk and took a bite of her sandwich with one hand as she flipped to her place in a dog-eared book with the other. A few minutes in and Rachel was suddenly started by a movement and noise at her door. Looking up, she was surprised to see her door opened and an unfamiliar woman walk in. “Uh, can I help you?” Rachel wanted to ask; peeved that someone would be so rude as to just walk into her office uninvited. Wanted to ask but unable to as the strange women began pelting her with orders upon entering, “I need to get into that room across the hall. You need to show me into that room, I need to check the supplies in there”. After showing the rude woman to the room she requested, Rachel shook her head and wondered for the third time that day if something was just a bit ‘off’. A mystery bruise, a thieving vending machine and a woman who ignored the universal understanding that a closed door meant ‘unavailable’, these events weren’t all that significant but they definitely made Rachel feel as if there was something very wrong with her day.

 

Arriving home, Rachel was greeted by her mother in the kitchen. “How was your day, honey?” her mother asked as she stirred something on the stove.

“Ugh it was awful. You ever have one of those days where everything feels a bit, off?” Rachel replied as she plopped down at the kitchen table. Her mother stopped what she was doing and turned to face Rachel, a worried expression on her face.

Seeing her mother’s concern, Rachel quickly continued, “It wasn’t anything major, just a few things that had me questioning my sanity a bit,” she attempted a chuckle. “Little stuff like finding this bruise on my arm and having no clue where it came from,” she said as she inspected the bruise again before showing her mother. “Not only that, but the vending machine ate my dollar, it acted like I never even put it in. And then, ugh, there was this obnoxious woman who just barged right into my office while I was trying to eat, she just opened the door and waltzed right in,” she finished in a huff.

Rachel’s mother had been nervously biting her lower lip throughout Rachel’s recount of her day and now looked to be on the verge of tears. Wondering why her mom was so affected by her story Rachel said, “Mom, don’t cry, I told you it wasn’t anything that was a huge deal, definitely nothing to get upset about”.

Reigning in her emotions, her mother nodded and then, in a very detached voice that sounded a bit strange to Rachel’s ears asked, “Rachel, what day is it today?”

Wondering what her mother could possibly be up to, asking such a bizarre question, Rachel almost laughed before noticing the sobering look her mother was giving her. Deciding it was just best to answer she said, “It’s Monday, May 23, 2001”. Seeing her mother’s face fall, Rachel knew something was wrong. “What? What is it?” she asked, a bit panicky.

‘It’s ok sweetie. Don’t get upset. I just… I just need to call the doctor,” her mother replied breathlessly before moving towards the phone mounted in the opposite wall of the kitchen.

“Call the doctor? I don’t understand, call what doctor? Mom? Mom, answer me!” Rachel was beginning to feel like she was falling down a rabbit hole.

“Calm down, Rachel. It’s just a little relapse; the doctor said this might happen. Just sit down and drink your glass of water,” Rachel’s mother said as she dialed.

“What are you talking about?!? Relapse, from what? I don’t understand,” Rachel almost screamed, her heart racing.

“Just drink your water, Rachel. I have to talk to the doctor now,” her mother replied in clipped phrases before turning her back and whispering into the phone.

“Water? What are you talking about? What water?” Rachel thought she was going to lose it and then she saw it- a half-empty glass of water in front her on the table. Where did that come from?  Rachel wondered frantically, she didn’t remember it being there a moment before. Seeing the toffee colored lip smear of her favorite lip gloss on the rim of the glass, Rachel’s eyes widened and something clicked inside her mind. It was then she knew, she hadn’t been at work today. There had been no rude woman or stubborn soda machine. Looking down at her arm, Rachel gasped- the dark purple bruise had disappeared.

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      Oh Monday… that pretty much sums up my day. It wasn’t horrible, it wasn’t great, it was just… sigh, Monday. Besides being the most loathed day of the week, this particular Monday was an odd one for ol’ Sammy. It was just a weird day, first came the discovery a mystery bruise, a pretty purple doosie on my arm- no idea where that came from and didn’t even notice it until someone pointed it out at work (I really need to invest in a full-length mirror). Then there was the money-eating Coke machine. It sucked up my dollar bill like an al dente noodle and then sat there smugly, refusing to hold up its end of the bargain. Stupid machine. Then, there was little Miss “I-don’t-knock-I just-come-in”. Maybe I was just a bit grumpy because I was kept from eating until 3pm today, but to me, a closed door can mean several things, none of which include, “Invite yourself in without so much as a courtesy knock”. And then, to be basically given orders? Homey don’t play that. Some people… There were a few other weird occurrences, nothing really worth mentioning, all things combined though, I just felt like my whole day was off. Only one way to fix that- go to sleep and wake up to a new day tomorrow.

Love & Squirrels.

Day #148: Sounds Like…

The Story:

…like removing the innumerable protective layers of a new DVD.

 

…like the crunch of a beer bottle being rolled over by a car tire.

 

 

…like the last four seconds of microwaving a bag of popcorn.

 

…like your grandma shuffling for her next game of Bridge.

 

…like a winning round of “Hungry, Hungry Hippos”.

 

…like opening a fresh bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

 

…like eating that first mouthful of Chex Mix.

 

…like throwing a handful of snap’n pops.

 

…like applause at a beatnik club.

 

…like popping bubble wrap.

 

…like chewing on ice.

 

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      Stressful day at work. Not going to get into the details (mainly because I’d like to keep my job, despite days like this) but the wear and tear of days like today is definitely catching up with me. It’s days like this I really wish I had a masseuse on retainer, but alas as a mere plebian I have to resort to more ‘inventive’ ways to get my kinks out… like getting my boyfriend to walk on my back. Cracking each other’s back has sort of become a daily thing, but today, whew boy! did it ever feel good…ahhh… My back sounded as if someone had set off fireworks in my spine. It sounded like… well, see above.

Love & Squirrels.

Day #132: Day’s End

The Story:

Everyone remembers where they were. Everyone remembers what they were doing in the moments before. And everyone remembers what they did the following day- it was a Tuesday.

No one talks much about it much anymore. Of course there was the initial shock, the desperate cries of outrage and confusion, the demands for explanation and something (or someone) to blame. In those early days, the scientific and academic community manically set its jaws into rooting out the cause and the ‘why’ of it all. I believe they are still scratching their collective heads these twenty-five years later. The religious zealots qiuckly set upon the remnants left by science, gnawing away and proclaiming that it was all God’s will.

Left with the choice of Science’s ‘inconclusive results’ and Religion’s dogmatic certainty, the world collectively shrugged its shoulders and continued to spin. As the days became weeks and the weeks became months, we did what we always do, we moved on. We cut the crusts off of our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We complained about the traffic or how crowded the trains were becoming. We got our hair cut and left the sideburns a little too long. We focused on reestablishing our sense of normalcy,  honed in on the mundane. What else could we do?

Some of the old timers blame it on my generation. They say we grew complacent and complained too much. Maybe that’s true, but I don’t believe we were the reason. If I allow myself to drift down that road of thinking it will only take me to a dead end, a cul-de-sac of guilt, the kind that doesn’t wash off and stinks of the obliviousness of the self-entitled. I’ve traveled that road before, in the beginning (after all, didn’t I wish for what happened like so many others?). No, I can’t believe we were the reason. To be honest, I don’t believe there was a reason.

Things are almost back to normal now, or what my brain has tricked my memory into believing is normal (is there really a difference?). There are a few obvious changes, of course, no one denies that. For starters, everyone suffers from a tinge of vertigo from time to time. Most of us have grown accustomed to this after living with it for so long, the tunnel-vision and swaying are no more strange than blinking or sneezing. I do not envy new parents, however, as they struggle to prepare their bouncing bundles of joy for a world that will randomly pitch them forward or spin them round as it sees fit, but it appears the infants adapt quickly enough.

People don’t seem as concerned with time as they once did. I suspect they feel betrayed by it. I feel that way sometimes when I see an old advert for a wrist watch or alarm clock. I belive it only makes good sense to be wary of something that so carelessly misused the trust we all placedwillingly at its doorstep.

I suppose the most obvious change from the old days is the complete abandonment of the term ‘Monday’. Deleting this term fr0m our collective vocabulary was perhaps the first unanimous decision made by the entire citizenry of the world. If one were to consult a calendar in today’s world (if you could find one) you would read the days of the week as follows:

Sunday     First Tuesday      Second Tuesday       Wednesday     Thursday       Friday                Saturday

The memory of that day is still too potent to speak its name. I believe it will always be that way. We humans are a funny breed, when confronted with a global calamity we first try to understand it and if that fails, we ignore it. It simply didn’t happen.  I’m just pleased as punch to keep it that way too, what’s the point of taking something apart when you know you won’t be able to fit the pieces back together again? Well that’s how I feel about it, anyway.

Of course there are a few out there who are determined to stir the pot. I mostly ignore them, though. I don’t burden my mind with their propaganda. I have no use for it. I stock my pantry, boil my water and continue to try and forget. Forget that on a Monday, 25 years ago we lost more than half a day. Without explanation and without a trace of warning time skipped from 2:02pm EST Monday, August 29, 2011 to Tuesday, August 30, 2011 at 8:00am EST on the dot. Time literally fast-forwarded through half a day and picked up a little less than 18 hours later. And we still haven’t recovered.

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      Ever have one of those days that you wish would just end? Funny how they usually wind up landing on a Monday, eh? That was the kind of day I was having today. Finally, around 3:30 or so, it got to the point where I just had to close my door and pray for 5:00pm to come quickly. Boiling point. I even posted a status to Facebook to the tune of, “Day, isn’t it about time you ended?”. Even when the work day came to a close my ‘bad day’ seemed to follow me home. Note to self: Do not dye your hair on a Monday, or any other day when everything seems to be going against you. Honestly the hair isn’t that bad, it looks like a wasted half-hour and smells like Sally’s Beauty Supply, but whatevs. So as I’m rinsing the dye out of my hair (and wondering if there was any in there in the first place, seriously my hair looks exactly the same) I started to think about what would happen if I got my wish- what if the day just ended when I said so? Other than perhaps making a lot of other people happy (not a good day in Facebook land apparently) having a day come to a screeching halt and then everything just picking back up the following morning would be a major game changer, don’t ya think? What do you think would happen if time just fast-forwarded 18 hours? Would we notice? Mull that over while I go and actually end my day, the traditional way, with some Zzzz’s.

And how.

Love & Squirrels.