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Day #365: The Last Story

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The Story:

All Rachel wanted was a quick commute home and maybe a bubblebath. She knew she’d get neither and sighed audibly, causing the two men seated in front of her to throw snooty looks over their shoulders before returning their attention to the presentor on stage. “I’m not even supposed to be here,” she thought sulkily to herself before trying to concetrate on what the presenter was saying. But here she sat, three hours after her work day was supposed to have ended she had convinced herself to stay out of professional obligation, that and there had been no oportune time to slip out.

Allen waited for Rachel as long as he could. Finally looking at his watch and knowing he should have left at least five minutes ago, he cursed the Burger King toilet and his shallow jean’s pocket for their concerted sabatoge of his only method of contacting her. His cellphone may as well be a fishtank accessory now for all the good it did him after taking its recent suicide dive into the murky toilet water of the fast food eatery. It was no use- he had to leave. He only prayed she would see his note before she saw… them.

By the time Rachel arrived home, the house was dark and she was hungry. Those were really the only two sensations that registered after her marathon 13-hour day. Not worrying with the lights, Rachel kicked off her heels and hobbled across their tiny loft to the fridge. Peering inside and seeing nothing she wanted, Rachel settled on a bowl of cereal and after pouring a good amount into a bowl and adding some milk, she took her dinner to the couch where she collapsed unceremoniously. Staring straight ahead and not even really tasting the spoonfuls of vanilla almond granola, she wondered briefly, where Allen was. The thought only half formed, however, before Rachel gave up sustenance for sleep and curled up on the couch. She was fast asleep before the remaining cereal had time to go soggy.

Since leaving the house two hours ago, Allen couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that he had forgotten something. Hoping it was a residual feeling of being without his cellphone, he tried to rationalize the feeling away, but with little success. Later, as he passed a woman at the end of her break packing up her lunch bag, a wave of sickening foreboding washed over him as he saw her press the lid of her Tupperware securely in place. He had forgotten to seal one of the containers. Without thinking, Allen took off towards his car- he had to make it home before Rachel. God, he hoped he wasn’t too late.

Still asleep where she had collapsed on the couch, Rachel subconsciously brushed at something tickling her face. Suddenly, the darkness disappeared as seemingly every light in the house was simultaneously turned on, causing Rachel to wake with a start. Seeing that it was just Allen, Rachel went from groggily confused to seriously peeved and was just about to tell him off for waking her up when she noticed the expression on his face. It was as if he had seen a ghost.

Allen’s worst nightmare was staring back at him. He would have sworn it was a dream or some ridiculous scene from a cheesy horror flick if it hadn’t been his own girlfriend curiously returning his stare, not knowing apparently, the terror she was about to experience despite his best efforts to prevent it.

“Babe, don’t be scared, but I have to tell you something. I needed to bring two of the animals home from the rehab clinic to stay here overnight. One of their containers was not properly secured and…now, don’t make any sudden moments and stay as still as you can, because there is a trantula on your head,” Allen tried to move towards her slowly but quick enough he could hopefully remove the aracnid before Rachel reacted and threw the thing across the room as he fully expected her to do. He could tell by her lack of reaction that she was having trouble processing what he had just told her, and might even be contemplating the chance that he was playing some elaborate prank on her. He wished he was.

Rachel wondered if her boyfriend was losing his mind or just his sense of humor. Telling her there was a giant spider on her head? Man, he needed some new material or some sleep, either way, Rachel wasn’t buying his act. Then, she felt something move in her hair.

She had felt it move, Allen could tell by the dramatic shift in her expression. He knew he would only have a split second before she reached for the uninvited headwear and flung it as far away from her as possible. Just as he was sure he’d be spending the next half hour scraping trantula-sized splatter off of the wall, something unexpected happened. Rachel smiled. Then, with all the grace of a ballerina, she slowly arched her arm up and over her head and slowly lowered it before gingerly plucking the spider from her head.

Honey, you missed a leg.

Rachel was getting a kick out of the stunned look Allen couldn’t seem to recover from, thanks to her little stunt with the spider. Not wanting to continue his misery any longer, she shrugged her shoulders causally and said, “I got your note about bringing home these guys. You know, you really should be more careful securing their containers. When my dad brought me home my first trantula- his name was Percy by the way, the same thing happened to me and Percy almost met his maker when my mom accidently swept him into the dustbin while she was cleaning. Don’t you just love spiders?”

Mary Jane knows what I'm talkin about... Spidey love Fo-eva!

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

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

ONE:      Today was a loooong day. Thirteen hour work day, to be exact. Tonight, from 6 to 9pm, our graduating physical therapy students presented their capstone projects and although I had every intention of ducking out early… the opportunity never presented itself. That’s ok, I was glad to lend my support to these guys after all their hardwork… I may just need a few naps tomorrow.

TWO:    There are not one, but two ginormous tarantulas sitting on my dining room table as we speak (or as I type… whatever, you get the idea). While seeing them here is no surprise, Andy was kind enough to give my plenty of warning, actually seeing them here, knowing that we are sharing the same air is wigging me out just a smidgeon. I, unlike Rachel from the story, am not exactly a huge fan of these critters and the notion that we will be spending the night (actually two nights) under the same roof is giving me the heebie jeebies.

***THIS IS IT! My last story! Can you believe it’s been a whole year????  I set a goal to write one work of fiction based on something that happened to me that day and by golly! I did it! What a rollercoaster this blogging journey has been. There’s so much I want to say, so I’ve decided to add two more posts, one tomorrow on the lessons I’ve learned thanks to this experience and one on my actual birthday (which is Friday… that whole leap year thing kinda screwed up my days!) about what my future plans are, with the blog and beyond. So stay tuned…

Love & Squirrels.

Day #319: Why Do I Always Fall Asleep In the Car?

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The Story:

I have several theories:

  1. Rather than deal with the stress of not being in control, I ‘opt out’. I let the swaying rock me, the wind and sun soothe me, and I close my eyes. Before I know it, my head drops to my chest- I am asleep.
  2. Being the passenger allows me the freedom of observation, but after several minutes, taking in the world begins to overwhelm. The sensory input is too great, too many sounds, too many smells, too many things to look at, read, think about and watch fly by. Perhaps my brain is like a computer and unable to take in and process all I see as I zoom past it simply goes into ‘sleep mode’ when it cannot take anymore.
  3. Perhaps it’s something I never stopped doing from the time I was a fussy newborn. Desperate for me to stop crying and just sleep, even if for a few hours, my mother would strap me into my car seat and take me for a drive. Apparently this method was the only thing that would work, and within minutes I’d be fast asleep.
  4. It’s preferable to having to make small talk.
  5. It’s an involuntary reaction, like yawning after watching someone else who just yawned.
  6. My love of sleep knows no bounds.
  7. The vibrations hypnotize me into a semi-conscious state.
  8. It’s a passive aggressive way of shoving it in the driver’s face that I can fall asleep at whim and they cannot.
  9. My eyes get tired of squinting and finally just shut. Once my eyes are closed, I might as well take advantage and settle in for a few winks.
  10. Maybe, I’m just tired.

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

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

ONE:      Do you know anyone who, after several minutes of riding in the car with you, begin to drift off to sleep? Well, you do now. Like newborn babies lulled by the vibrations and movement of the car me and my fellow sleepyheads grow quiet and eventually are playing the ‘head bobbing’ game before falling asleep completely. I don’t know what it is, but if I’m riding shotgun for any more than 20 minutes you can almost count on me falling asleep- or struggling not to. As a wee babe, my mom told me the only way she could get me to sleep those first few months of life was driving me around the block several times so I wonder if that somehow became ingrained in my ‘what makes me ME’ makeup. It happened today, on the way to meet Andy’s mom and grandparents for dinner. Before we were even half way there, I had fallen asleep…

Love & Squirrels.

 

Day #310: Fresh Batch of Tired

The Story:

A glass o’ wine

I’m feeling fine.

 *

A mouthful of dough, marinara and cheese

One more slice? Yes please.

 *

Would we like dessert?

I guess sharing a chocolate soufflé couldn’t hurt.

 *

All caught up on girl talk

After all I ate tonight, glad I got in my afternoon walk.

 *

Snuggled up on the couch

Finally feeling like less of a grouch.

 *

A bit nervous about tomorrow, hope it goes well…

Ready for it to be over, but how it will go, I can’t really tell.

 *

To keep me from fretting and needless worry

Think I’ll go to bed now, while it’s still early.

 

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

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

ONE:      Sorry for the riddles, but my mind is a pulsating weary grey blob at the moment, so it will just have to suffice. Met up with my friend Joanna tonight for a much needed girls’ night and glass of vino. It’s always a great time when we get together, but the moment we parted ways to go to our respective cars, as if on cue, I began to grow incredibly tired. I guess the wine combined with the long day at work, working out (and sweating to death in the 83 degree heat), a little too much pizza/chocolate souffle and an early appointment tomorrow (more on that, well… tomorrow) I’m soooo ready to hit the hay… as they say. Plus, since Andy’s computer died, he’ll be needing mine now so… until tomorrow sweet readers!

Love & Squirrels.

Day #308: Alternative Definitions for an Improved Mood

The Story:

Disgruntled: A practice utilized in the 16th century by which farmers would forcibly remove the sound compartment, or ‘grunt’ of a troublesome or temperamental hog or pig.

I'll be quiet... I promise!

Cranky: The stage name of Parsons Crowely, a small-time vaudeville performer of the late 1890s who specialized in impersonations. Best known for his reaction to disorderly audiences, Crowley earned the name ‘Cranky’ early in his career for throwing a childish tantrum on stage anytime his act was not well received.

Overit: A French confection, most commonly known as the ‘cousin’ of the better known pastry ‘turnover’. Usually made of phyllo dough and a filling made of nuts or fruit filling, an ‘overit’ is distinguished by its filling being on the ‘outside’ unlike typical pastries. This makes for tricky eating, which may account for its unpopularity.

Babies LOVE overits

Irritated: A word derived from Egyptian lore revolving around the goddess Irri, provider of serenity, fulfillment and turtle doves. Worshiped primarily in the Second Intermediate Period, Irri bestowed upon others her gifts but could never benefit from them herself. Cursed by her fate of enduring an eternity of always serving others, Irri cast herself into the Nile but was spared from certain death when the train of her garment became snagged on a sleeping guard’s curved spear, also known as a ‘tate’.

Tired: A slang term made popular by the fashion icon E. H. HEARSH of the 1960s referring to a specific shade of red. Common belief holds the term was created when a bowl of maraschino cherries were spilled on HEARSH, soaking his white satin tie. HEARSH immediately declared he was ‘tired’ and it was instantly the color of the season.

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

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

ONE:      I was having a bad day today. Nothing really happened per se, but everything was getting on my last little nerve.  Most of me believes my rotten attitude has to do with a certain hormonal imbalance, but there is part of me that thinks I was just due for an ‘off’ day. I found myself snapping at people, putting on fake smiles, and being an all-around grouch so I decided to take some of the words that would describe my attitude/day today and glam up their definitions a bit. I guess it worked cause I definitely feel better knowing that tired is actually a hip shade of red and irritated is really an homage to a cool Egyptian goddess. Yay for imaginations!

Love & Squirrels.

Day #198: So Tired

The Story:

Let’s play a guessing game. See if you can guess what IT is using the following clues:

 

I’d rather do it than eat.

It’s what I Iook forward to on my day off.

It’s what I want to do as soon as I wake up.

It’s what seems to elude me when I need it most.

Thinking of changing my middle name to it.

I can do it almost anywhere.

My dogs are experts at it.

I desperately need to catch up on it.

Some people need more of it than others.

The lack of it is preventing me from writing anything worthwhile at the moment.

 

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The Not So Fantastic Reality:

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

ONE:      So tired… so ver ver tired. It’s one of those days that I feel like my time would best be spent with my eyes peacefully shut and my mind turned off, it only for a few hours. Ever feel like you just need a catch up day? A day where you can just take things slow, wake up and move at your own pace, sit and reflect on your life or plan for the next wave of what it has in store? I get like that, life just seems to keep rushing at me and I keep looking for a pause button and continue to be disappointed when one doesn’t magically appear. So, I’ve learned to create my own, I call them mental health days, but they could be dubbed ‘catch up on sleep’ days, or ‘time out’ days or anything similar. Tomorrow I celebrate a much needed “catch up day”, no work, no plans, no wake-up time, no expectations; just me and 24 hours of whatever the hell I wanna do.

Love & Squirrels.