By Beauty Damned

Minute By Minute

Wow. Today was a crazy busy day. I got a lot done yesterday. All the usual Sunday housecleaning, all the preparation for the week ahead, made my lunch for today. Went to bed. As I was dozing off, doing that thing that we all do (actually, it doesn't seem like men do it as much as women), thinking about the million things I need to remember to do, all the things I've forgotten to do, all the things I feel guilty about, i.e., the letters I need to write, the phone calls I need to make, and DING! Of the million things streaming through my half consciousness, it occurred to me that I'd forgotten to put avocado on my turkey sandwich and I needed to have some on there if it was to be complete. I couldn't repress it. I got up and went into the kitchen to cut up the avocado, but in my half sleep I stabbed myself in the palm with a small serrated knife. Aaaaahhhh! I hate cutting myself. It scares me. For some reason, you suddenly realize how fragile your body is. I was bleeding out of the deep hole in my hand and trying to make it stop (which is easier than you'd expect on an inner hand wound since clinching a fist is a pretty good way to stop the blood flow), I called Rob at home and whined like a little baby and elicited the desired sympathy before wrapping it up and going back to the warm confines of my bed, still clutching my pulsating hand in a fist, afraid that if I released it I would get blood all over my clean sheets. The drama!

At about four o'clock in the morning I heard a loud thud in the front of the house and shot awake, (being a notoriously paranoid person when it comes to noises in the dark). I turned on the light in the living room only to see that my naughty cat Matilda had knocked over a large vase of fresh flowers on the dining table and there was water pouring onto the floor as she stood there cowering with that incredibly infuriating look of guilt and fear-of-spray-bottle-retribution written all over her. Fulfilling her greatest fear, I spritzed the shit out of her with the spray-bottle, cleaned up the mess she'd made, put the flowers where she couldn't reach them, and once again returned to my warm, happy bed.

Before I knew it, the alarm was going off and it was time to get up. I felt exhausted. I went through the usual morning routine: shower, coffee, dress, watch news, gather belongings, rush to the train. All morning at work was nonstop busy. This is the time of year where the business of law increases in frenetic pace. I don't know why, it's just always been that way. Now through at least the end of February is madness. Had to run to a chiropractic/massage appointment at 2 p.m. (aaaah, the most relaxing hour of my day), hurried back to the office and inhaled my sandwich while continuing to work. Wow, the stress relief induced by massage and physical therapy didn't last long! All of a sudden, I looked at the clock and it was already five. Mondays fly. I finished up all necessary tasks before jetting out to catch my train home.

I slept on the train (something about sleeping on the train makes you feel like a zombie when you wake up - rocking back and forth while speeding along the tracks is a truly hypnotic force) and almost didn't have the energy to walk to the grocery store for a few items that I needed for dinner. I didn't even want to make dinner. Just wanted to come home and fall straight to sleep before having to get up and do it all again tomorrow, with the exception of the chiropractic appointment being scheduled for the dastardly hour of 8 a.m. tomorrow rather than 2 p.m. But I forced myself to walk to the store and rewarded myself by purchasing a nice big, dark Belgian beer to nurse alongside the delectable steak tacos that I whipped up when I got home. Now that the beer is almost gone, I don't even feel like going to bed!

Hopefully, tomorrow, I'll have time to post something slightly more relevant to the rest of the world.

Posted by Maria at September 27, 2004 11:18 PM