Saturday, September 10, 2011

a farewell to armpits

This week has been a strange week.  I have been so busy at work I barely took time to breathe.  When I had a moment to rest, my head was off in the clouds, thinking of drawing, painting, and blogging.  New ideas bobbed in my mind like apples bobbing around in a tub of water, waiting for me to grab them with my teeth.  The problem was that the apples were usually bobbing in my head when I should have been focused on my nemesis...the dreaded paperwork. 

By midweek, using both sides of my brain at the same time had rendered me incoherent.  I was having trouble finding words, and doing strange things.  And wondering if I would make it to the end of the week.

I was standing in the boss's office one day.  His boss and his secretary were in there.  We were discussing some work issue.  I was standing because I have to sit much of the day. 

Two things set me up for failure:
I was wearing girly shoes.  Cute little flip flops with three inch wedge heels.
I was fidgeting.
That doesn't sound like a dangerous combination.  I mean, any idiot can stand still for a few moments and talk to her supervisors.

Not this idiot.  While I was fidgeting in my shoes, trying to get comfortable, I fell.  Off my shoes.  Into the floor.  Flat out on my butt.  I have this memory of a collective scream of horror (not from me, I was overdue for a fall).  Then my boss's boss had his hand shoved in my face helping me up, which was lucky for me (the only luck).  On my own, I don't rise like a phoenix from the ashes.  It's more like a pig rolling out of a mud wallow.  I'm just thankful I didn't pee my pants from the force of the fall.

The week waxed on.  My brain began to turn to mush.  Then came the day I couldn't find names.  Of people I knew.  I called my co-workers by each other's names.  They just laughed at me.  Then I called one of my peers by a completely different name.  That didn't belong to anyone who worked in our building.  She looked at me as though I had lost my mind, and I confirmed her suspicions when I opened my mouth and spoke.  Because I couldn't remember her name.  At all.  I just said..."umm, uhh, oh it's coming to me, it's right on the tip of my tongue...." and she looked like she might turn and run...the secretary was laughing loudly...and finally after about 2 agonizing minutes, it came to me.  I'd hit bottom.  I thought.  

The next morning, I was talking on my cellphone to one of the people I supervise...and looking at my armpit.  I was in the bathroom about to get in the shower when she called, so looking at my armpit was quite the normal thing to do at that time and in that place.  As I was looking and talking, I noticed armpit hair.  An overabundance of it.  And I realized I had neglected a part of my anatomy for too long, while I had been in high gear with everything else.  So I did what any multitasker would do.  I depilated while I discussed.  Voila.  Finito.  Problem solved, on the phone and under my arms.  Farewell armpit hair.  That was when I realized the person I had been talking to probably couldn't hear me with my face wound around and stuck in my armpit.

Today I finished the week, and myself off in glorious fashion.  My niece and daughter were over, and we were all in the living room watching football.  Somehow the discussion came around to buying Christmas gifts, and how difficult it was for grown children to buy for parents.  (I agree.  There is nothing we really want.  Except peas on earth and seasoned greetings for all.)  

I meant to say that all the kids needed to get us was something little, like lotion for me and new underwear for Stevie Wonder.  But it came out like this:

"Just get some lotion for me and clean underwear for your dad, and he'll be happy."

I didn't realize what I'd said until Wretch fell off the couch laughing and the niece was chortling too.  Wretch told her dad between gasps of laughter that she would just wash his underwear and wrap them for Christmas and her shopping would be finished.

Steve did not find it amusing.  I told him to get over it, I could have told her to get skid-proof underwear.  He just glared at me.

Am I glad this week is over.  I need a glass of wine.  Maybe two.  Hope your week was better than mine.  This week's blessing: May you all find the words you seek, and remain upright in your shoes.

~cath xo
Twitter @jonesbabie
Post a Comment