I saw my therapist today during my lunch hour. Why? Only God knows. Talk about a complete waste of time and money ON MY PART. I’m still trying to replay the whole thing to figure out if there was anything that was remotely meaningful said in the entire session . . . ON HER PART. I mean it’s hard to decide if seeing a therapist is what I need based on this odd conversation. I find myself asking why? Why is she asking me this or that and what does this have to do with anything pertaining to why I’m here? Is she even a real therapist? Did I mention that she looks like a less pretty Barbara Streisand. I mean I think I like her okay but I don’t really like the name Barb that much. Never mind Barbara. Neither forms. I just thought of all the Barbs I know and I have weird feelings toward each and every one! I know five of them. First Barb is nice. No doubt about that. Comes from a nice large family. She married the most unattractive male counterpart. I’ll never know why. You might describe her as sweet. And BORING. The next Barb is around my age. Hmm. She’s so privately entwined with her siblings that it’s privately weird. Again, nice person but is there such a thing as being obnoxiously private? So private it makes you uncomfortable. That kind of private. Like what’s the big secret Barb?! Fact is, there isn’t one. That’s just how she is. The third Barb is my age and I’m pretty sure she was the valvictorian of my high school. I’m pretty sure she was nice but I didn’t really hang with her and I’m pretty sure she probably wouldn’t associate with me due to my non-valvictorian ways back then. Cut to me falling asleep in every class. Fourth Barb was about the slowest moving person I knew/know of. I’d love to see her jog. Hop even. Very smiley and slow moving. Since my natural stance is in motion I couldn’t hardly listen to or be around her for any length of time without becoming anxious or taking over the task she was doing at a turtle’s pace. Fifth Barb is my best friend’s mom. She caught me smoking when I was way too young. I’m glad she did. She makes a killer chocolate milk shake and some other stuff. Recently diagnosed with lung cancer and no she didn’t smoke. The fifth Barb is my new therapist. This was my third Barb visit so far. I’m waiting for the ah hah moment when I realize the healing reason everyone recommends thereapy. Nothing really accomplished one way or the other in the ah hah moment department. Barbara Streisand and Barbara Mandrell are the only famous Barbara’s I can think of. Remember that song Barbara Ann by the Beachboys? I think it was the Beachboys. Again, weird! Sigh. I’m going to see fifth Barb two more times and see if I get the ah hah. You know what they say about the number five. I don’t know what they say about the number five. It rhymes with hive and dive that’s about it.
I feel my cell vibrate while sitting at my desk. I’ve got a text. As I suspect it’s from my bf. She wants to know what happened after she left on Saturday and can I meet for lunch. I can’t meet today though because I go to my Divorce Support Group meeting on Mondays. I look like I’m sick every Monday because I don’t get any sleep on Sunday. God knows what the other divorcees think of me and my sleep deprivated eyeballs. I have what some would call SNAS or Sunday Night Anxiety Syndrome. Blink blink blink, toss, turn, toss, turn, switch out pillow. Blink blink blink. Repeat. What time is it? I can only pray it’s time to get up and it is. It wouldn’t be a Monday without the mid-morning call from my oldest sister complaining about her life and the lives of everyone else in our family. I chime in with the complaints. Of course one of them drinks too much, the other one is married to a crazy person and the other is undeniably dysfunctional and there’s nothing else to say. We conclude we’re the only sane ones and hang up. Not before I offer her $100 in order to fix a broken appliance. She’ll let me know if that’s necessary. Tic toc. Lunch time! I change shoes for my walk over to my meeting.
It’s an oddly warm day for January . . . just waiting for the temp to plunge to below zero like it does every other day here but for now I look both ways at the bike lane and lights. The light is green but no bikers. Car lanes are stopped. The lights switch up I’m thinking I could cross but at that very moment a taxi cab speeds ahead at the exact time a biker/messenger is flying and by flying I mean zooming through the intersection. All I see is paper and plastic and screams and screeching! The biker/messenger is quite literally thrown onto a parked vehicle on the corner near the point of the collision. His bike has slid to another corner and one of his shoes is stuck in the pedal and is in fact still pedaling. I think for a minute if I should go retrieve his shoe for him but I don’t. Simultaneously people grab for their cell phones to call for help. Where is my phone?! Where I left it, of course, on my desk! Someone is yelling at the cab driver and now I hear sirens. It looks like two fire trucks, an ambulance and a squad car. The biker/messenger is slightly moving. People are trying to talk to him. I think maybe they need to unstrap his helmet but no one wants to remove it. Why am I standing here? Next thing you know I’ll be asked to make a report or statement. And now I’m late for my meeting.
Everyone exchanges late happy new year wishes. A male in the group has had his divorce become final on NYE. That hurts. He’s joined a boxing gym and says it’s exhilarating. We discuss boxing for a bit. Another gentleman has had a run-in that very morning with his soon to be ex-wife’s boyfriend whose name is Chad. She’s not supposed to have any male friends while they’re both still living in the house. He makes her aware of this rule and now Chad is also aware. His emotions do not give any indication of how he is feeling about this awkward event one way or another. He just says it’s fine except she broke the rule. Hmmmm. Yet another gentleman is thinking his present girlfriend is not “the” girlfriend for a number of reasons and he sprinkles this entire slot of talking with bouts of bragging on himself and his children. Lunch is over back to work. Would you believe traffic is backed up as far as the eye can see. All the first responders are still there by my building! Now I can’t help but think there must have been a fatality. The messenger/biker must not have made it! Wrong. The cab driver’s vehicle was hit while it was waiting for the police to issue him a ticket and the person who hit the cab wasn’t paying attention because she was on her phone and trying to check out the accident at the same time not realizing the cab was stopped for good and not moving along with the rest of the traffic she slams into the back of it and well now a whole other lawsuit will be born. Lucky for me my friend from work stood on the corner the entire time I was at my meeting so she was able to relay the entire situation to me. I’m looking at the police officer now because he’s looking at me. Wait, he really is looking at me and he’s cute. He motions for me to come over. I cannot stop smiling and all I can think about is my ugly boots I have on with salt stains covering them from the snowy weather last week. Oh My God, he asks me if I was on the corner at the time of the accident and would I be willing to make a statement. Really? I tell him I was on the scene at first but I didn’t want to have to give a statement unless absolutely necessary. He says it’s necessary for him to find out what my name is! I’m still smiling. I give him my number and all but run back to my office. First things first. Where’s my phone?! Found it and there’s a text from my sister “guess who just plowed into the back of a cab on Lake Street.” Of course it would be someone I would know. Another text coming in . . . it’s from the police officer guy “can you meet me on this corner same time tomorrow,” he adds a wink smile! It’s a date.
Okay so I was late again for work. I think I’m slacking because I don’t have to get my kids up and out. Come Monday when they’re back to school I will be early for work. No matter who or what GMA is talking about I will be out the door and on time. I would say mark my words but I’m not going to say that. On GMA this morning they had on a man who lost up to 300 plus pounds. It was an amazing transformation. He looked like a different person. Obviously. The woman with the microphone informed him that he lost the weight of what is an entire first grade class. Um, I don’t know how that was supposed to make the man feel other than sick to his stomach? I mean really? Thanks for the uncomfortable comparison GMA. What is he supposed to say to that?! It made me feel like a first grader because my goal is to lose a solid seven pounds. Not ten, I don’t have to go ten, I will be sufficiently satisfied with seven. The girls are getting together tonight to do inspiration boards. One of my inspirations is weight loss and muscle tone like the whole rest of the world around this time of year. Exactly how many cookies did I eat over Christmas? I wish I would have counted them. I’m guessing at least two dozen. At least. Every time I turned around, every home I went into there were more and more homemade cookies! Including my own. Some of the homemade cookies are small though so do those count as a whole cookie’s worth? Probably yes. In light of trying or wanting to lose seven pounds, I thought I could eat a high protein breakfast, skip lunch and eat a small dinner. Lunch is nothing but a hassle anyway and most of the time I just eat it to pass the time at work during my lunch hour. Technically, yes I’m a little hungry for lunch but I know I could do without. So anyway, upon arriving late to work I “clock” in on my computer and I head to the Protein Bar. I order a smoothie with a “free” multi-vitamin boost. The smoothie I order is called a Froot-Looped. You have some choices to make even after you decide which smoothie you want. Would you like whey, soy or egg protein with that? Uh, whey I guess? Would you like 2% milk, soy milk or almond milk? Uh, 2%. Free boost? I went with the multi-vitamin one but there are others. The froot-looped has blueberries in it and apparently it also has a blend of purple crayon because the drink they put on the counter was seriously PURPLE. Like Harold and the Purple Crayon Purple. Barney Purple. Like a whole class room of first graders would love to drink this kind of purple. They should have given them out on GMA today! Fast forward one hour and guess who looks like they drank red wine before arriving late at work this morning? That would be me. Not only that but there are blueberry seeds stuck in every tooth in my head. I look like a drunk meth head. Good thing I keep a toothbrush at my desk/cube! What in the world? I’ll have to pick a different non-color protein packed breakfast smoothie. Sigh. What else am I putting on my inspiration board? Being on time. Losing seven pounds. Squaring away debt. Re-doing upstairs bedroom. That’s all I have so far. Maybe go somewhere different. Take kids somewhere different. I don’t know. Can I put find soul mate? Or Prince Charming? That is pathetic and weird. It’s the same as hoping to meet someone I guess . . . whoever they may be. But is that really an inspiration or just a want/desire. I need to think boldly. Most of these are on everyone’s board. What should be on MINE? Run a marathon! Run a half marathon? Become a eucharistic minister and deliver communion to the sick? Really? Take singing lessons! Yes I would love that. Take up yoga. I’ve always wanted to but never did. That’s something I would love to do. OR alternatively I could become an expert on all things purple. Hmmmmmmmmm. I will try again on Monday to do what I didn’t do this morning.
This morning, on the snowiest of snow days thus far, with only the tips of Mary’s and Joseph’s head visible, the 6 pound baby Jesus now fully buried in the snow, I shuffle past them rushing to my garage to head off to work. I’m rushing because it’s still snowing and because I’m late (even though I resolved to NOT be late ever again) and also I just have one quick stop to make . . . for a gallon of milk. Lucky for me the local gas station/convenient mart/gang and drug trafficking hang-out is just two blocks from my house. And as luck would have it I’m on E, as in empty, as in out of gas. Okay milk and gas and I’m off to work. Is today Monday? What is today? Suddenly, it occurs to me that I haven’t shoveled and my garage is pretty much snowed in so am I even getting out of the garage to get the milk and gas? Yes. I got out and I made it to the gas station. A woman in a small vehicle is parked quite literally between the door of the “store” and two gas pumps. I slide/skid into a space next to one of the pumps and she turned to give me a dirty look. Excuse me for needing fuel this morning lady and by the way the concrete right directly in front of the door is in NO WAY a parking space. Anyway, the snow and wind are whipping around and I’m waiting for my debit card to clear so I can start fueling. By waiting for my debit to clear I mean I have to enter everything down to my home address, DOB and SSN. After this I make my way into the store for my gallon of milk. How much is a gallon of milk? I know it will cost more at this convenient store. I happen to have four singles. That should be enough. I hope. I turn off my car and lock it and all I have on me now is my four dollars, my cell phone and my car keys. The cap on the gallon of milk says $3.99. Ugh. I’m going to have to run back out to get the change! I should’ve just grabbed my whole bag instead of the $4! I bring the milk to the counter and ask the cashier how much the tax is on the gallon of milk. She says it’s $4.08. I tell her okay I have to run back out for the eight cents I’ll be right back. To my surprise she tells me it’s okay that she has the extra eight cents! Don’t worry she says I have it here. Bonus! Thanks a lot I tell her and run out of there as I still need to now drop the milk back off and THEN go to work. Yes, I would’ve rather hung out with my whiney kids today and dry and re-dry wet snow clothes all the live long day but I had to return to work and that person offering up the eight cents made my treachorous drive downtown just a little bit worth it. There IS good in all of us. I don’t know what it took for that cashier to get to work this moring or what kind of Christmas she had or if she had kids at home she had to leave behind on this school break but she was there to offer me eight cents when I needed it. I hope she got off early and I hope she bought a lottery scratch off and that she won $50,000 a week for the rest of her life. My second day of the new year. I am grateful to be grateful.