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Day #313: Now In New ‘Productive’ Scent!

The Story:

“I swear to God, Karen it’s the best damn thing I’ve ever bought. Just listen to this… listen, I brought it home and the minute I lit the thing, things just sort of… started happening. I have no idea how a little candle could do all this but I’m telling you it really happened,” Teri wrung her hands with jittery excitement and Karen could have sworn that her friend’s eyes were jittering back and forth in her sockets. Worried, Karen began to interrupt her friend but before she could, Teri had already started up again.

“So I light the candle, but I told you that already, how silly of me. As soon as it’s lit, it’s like BAM! stuff began to happen, breakfast made itself- two fried eggs, a piece of toast with butter and a cup of tea with milk and sugar. Then before I knew it, the kitchen was clean, sparkling even! Like it had never been before so I walked through the house and what do you know? The entire place was spotless! Can you imagine??? Without even lifting a finger! There’s more though, Karen, I swear I’m not making this up. The laundry was done, the grocery shopping was done and but away, I even had two knew work outfits bough and hanging in my closet!  I went to trim up Dylan’s hair, and wouldn’t you know? It was done too! The dogs were fed, the chores were done and dinner was even on the stove! All this from a $4.00 candle, can you believe it?!?” Teri was practically panting now in her excitement and Karen had gone from worried to downright alarmed as she listened to her friend’s retelling of her day.

My fingers are talking and my eyelids taste purple!

“I’m telling you Karen, you need to get down there to Big Bob’s Sell-A-Lot and scoop you up some of these candles. I’m going myself right now, as a matter of fact. I’ve got to stock up,” Teri hadn’t touched the Caesar salad she ordered for lunch at their usual bistro and now, in addition to her eyes skittering back and forth, her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

“Why don’t I take you!” Karen said jumping up. “We can go together and you can show me so I make sure to get the right ones, how does that sound?”

“Oh what fun! Great idea Kar… Kar Kar, can I call you Kar Kar? That’s fun to say, Kar Kar. Kar Kar, Kar Kar, Kar Kar…” Teri seemed to be stuck on a loop and couldn’t get off. Froth began to form in the corners of her mouth as Karen directed her to her Volvo and strapped her in the passenger seat.

By the time they arrived at the hospital, Teri had stopped saying “Kar Kar” and was now slumped in her seat, unresponsive. Luckily, they had made it in time for the skilled medical staff to revive and stabilize her. As Karen sat in the waiting area, awaiting news about her friend, a teaser for one of the local news channels came on the TV perched in the corner of the room.

Tonight at 6 o’clock, scented candles laced with dangerous hallucinogens, sold at a local retailer to dozens of customers in our community. Tune in at six to learn what the symptoms are and how the candle meant to freshen your home could actually kill you. Tonight, at six.

God... I love doing that. Ha ha...

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

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

ONE:      Wouldn’t it be great if something existed for us less-than-uber-wealthy that could do all our errands and chores for us without us so much as lifting a finger? Yeah, that would be sweet. So I don’t have a magic candle, although I did purchase a pretty candle that smells of lavender blossoms today, but despite not having magic at my disposal I was able to get quite a bit accomplished today (I should say ‘we’ as Andy did more than his share as well). The house was scrubbed down, bathroom cleaned, clothes put away, breakfast made, I cut Andy’s hair (and it actually looks presentable), got a bunch of clothes at the Goodwill for a super steal, laundry’s in the dryer and dinner is digesting. All and all, a good day… no drugs needed!

Love & Squirrels.

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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.

Day #120: Making a Few Cuts

The Story:

“Dude, I heard today was the day,” Curly said nervously.

“Nah, he’s been saying that for months now and every time he changes his mind. Don’t sweat it,” Harry gave his jumpy friend a relaxed half-smile and stretched lazily.

“What was that?” Curly looked about him in panicky jerks.

“What was what?” Harry asked from where he was still stretched out.

“I swear I heard something just then. You didn’t hear anything? It was kind of a crunchy-swooshy sound,” Curly continued to sweep his eyes around for the possible origin of the mystery sound.

“You’re totally losing it, Curly-man. You need to relax a little. Close your eyes and play it cool, ya know?” Harry drawled with his eyes still closed.

“I mean, take a look at me. You don’t see me getting my panties in a twist over some nonexistence noise. I’m cool as a cucumber. Laid back like a – “

Harry?” Curly asked from where he was trying to keep his eyes shut. “Laid back like a what, Harry?” he continued after receiving no response from his counterpart. “Okay Harry, this is not funny. I know you’re over there so you can cut out the silent treatment already,” Curly was beginning to feel a bit edgy as the silence continued. “If only I wasn’t stuck here,” he thought to himself, “I would go over there and slap some sense into that guy.” Curly was beginning to fear that something horrific was happening… what had happened to Harry???

As the minutes passed, Curly thought he heard the sound again, this time a little louder. Or did he? He was beginning to wonder if in his growing paranoia he was fooling himself into thinking there was a sound- when in fact there might not be. Deciding to take Harry up on his advice, Curly tried to relax (half of him hoped that his efforts might herald his friend’s return somehow). Closing his eyes and stretching out in his best Harry-like imitation, Curly let out a breath and waited for the relaxation to come.

The sound came first. This time Curly knew he wasn’t imagining it, it was real… and getting closer.

“What is that?!?” Curly moaned aloud. “Harry? Harry, is that you? Cut it out, man. I’m serious!” Curly was on the brink of a complete meltdown and still, the sound was growing louder in slow, choppy increments.

Right before he heard it for the final time, he saw it. In that millisecond, all made sense- the sound, the disappearance of Harry, all of it. A flash of metal and the deafening sound vibrating in every follicle and then, for a brief moment Curly felt as is if he were floating. Darkness.

Debbie swept the hair off of the shoulders of her last client of the day and spun him around to face the full-length mirror. “So, what do we think?” She asked without a lot of emotion.

“Looks great. Man, is it a relief to be rid of all that hair!” her customer replied and handed her a twenty dollar bill.

“All in a day’s work kid,” Debbie murmured to herself.

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

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

ONE:      Upon arriving home today after work, I was met with an announcement from the boyfriend, “I want to cut my hairs”. This is not an unusual announcement. I have been hearing with irregular frequency for the past four months or so. Inevitably, after this first announcement is uttered, it is followed, usually the next day, with a second announcement proclaiming his intention of keeping his locks long, if only for a little longer. So when I responded to today’s announcement with my usual, “Mmm hmm,” he looked me dead in the eye and said, “Can you cut it today?” I was a little taken aback (but quickly recovered and fetched the scissors). I’m always a bit hesitant about cutting hair other than my own, mainly because I don’t know what the haiku I’m doing. After a bit of convincing on his part I was finally coaxed into snipping off his (way long) curls. It was a bit sad, actually. Those hairs had worked hard to tough it out this long and in an instant SNIP! – gone. Oh well, after the first few cuts I kind of got into it… it was almost a little cathartic in a way. The end result is nowhere near professional caliber but he doesn’t look like I used a noodle bowl for a template either- so we’re both happy.

Love & Squirrels.

Day #77: Hiding In My Hair

Posted on

The Story:

I for one am convinced that 'bangs' were the brainchild of an introvert... but I'm a little biased, I guess

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

I strayed again tonight… felt the urge to pick up a pencil and scribble a little, thanks for indulging me!

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

not...quite...long...enough...

ONE:      Today I was feeling very “I” (that’s for you Kristi M.!) or introverted for all of you non Myers-Briggs people (if you ever want to discover what your personality preferences are, I highly recommend taking a quick online MBTI test, it’s super interesting… at least I think so). As an INFP (see what that means here) sometimes I just want to tuck away from the world and be left alone with my thoughts for a day. Thankfully, my position is one that allows me that indulgence, for the most part, and besides a few inquiring students I had the day to myself. But as I was leaving for the day, I heard (and felt) someone close their office door and begin their trek down the hallway just a few steps behind me. Perhaps this is just a Samism (something that bugs me), but this is one of the most unsettling sensations for yours truly. I feel completely awkward… do I turn around? Do I sneak a glance to see if I know the person? If I do know them, will I have to wait and try to come up with small talk as we walk the same path to our car? Do I hold the door open for them or if they get to it first does that mean they are holding it open for me to go first or are they going through first? Whew… and yes, that is but a small glimpse into the brain of a true introvert (or maybe, just my brain). So… to answer your question, I decided to NOT turn around. In fact, I actually let my hair fall around my face so it blocked my peripheral view, allowing me a plausible excuse for not looking if the person in question was actually an acquaintance wondering why I hadn’t stopped. Hair in my face… hmmm… I wonder if there are other benefits to walking around sheltered by a mane of hair, peeking out only when it suits me…

Love & Squirrels.