Tomorrow’s a holiday so I’ll be up late

That was the call back message left on my daughter’s west coast voice mail.  (yawwwwn) “Yeah, right.  You’re crashing before 9.”

I truly feel like an old lady tonight.  I finished my snowflake project last night, soaking, pinning, stretching, starching, and bleaching a selected few with annoying little smudges. but that didn’t wear me out.

The day before and the day after Thanksgiving is usually slow at work so we were authorized to come in earlier than normal so that if we were sent home early we wouldn’t have to use benefit hours to make up to a full 40.  Work wasn’t slow, we were all working over the usual 8 and I was still sitting there tying up loose ends when everyone else went home.  Neither did that alone turn me into Geezer Woman.

I can’t seem to make life easy on myself in terms of what to drag around and what not to drag around.  So I have the handbag full of what-if solutions, the lunch bag full of alternate choices in Corningware, the half full coffee cup dangling off a spare finger, and sometimes my laptop pulling on my shoulder.  That’s load enough but not too long ago, the weather was drizzly and I was balancing the umbrella too.  I remember having to park an unreasonable distance from the front door and possibly mumbling something like “what does a girl have to do to earn one of those convenient blue and white wheelchair tags for the rear view mirror so I can get a primo parking spot every day?”  Wellllll…. I don’t necessarily adhere to the doctrine of Speaking It So as a 100 or even a 40% sure thing but I do give credence to being taught a lesson now and then as a direct result of opening my big mouth.

My pain in my right heel is excruciating, certainly worthy of a doctor authorizing a blue and white wheelchair tag.

The logical explanation is that I’ve been wearing some sort of elevated heels on my shoes since 1965 more of the time than not.  According to WebMD, the ligament is winning its argument against high or even semi-high heels until it is stretched out and healed.  Also, I should probably go to a doctor but that’s not in the works until after Christmas at least.

That’s what is exhausting me and causing me to limp and lurch through the room waving my arms for balance looking like I’m in search of the walker, cane, crutch, sky hook — you name it.

I wonder if I qualify for one of those awful scooter chairs I’ve been so quick to sneer at.  Another lesson.

Another possible addition to the Why Am I Yawning Uncontrollably At 7:30pm list is all the stupid food I ate today.  Honey has been off all week so he can work on our extra income effort making radio cabinets at the wood shop.  He has an order of five.  The wood shop is about 20 miles the other direction from his work where his paycheck was being held captive until 2pm and not scheduled for release one second sooner.  The conversation went like this…

I have to cut my shop time a little short so I can pick up and deposit my check and still get to the grocery store. It’s noon now and our bank closes every Wednesday afternoon, tomorrow’s a holiday, and your company’s closed Friday. If you get it today, I can deposit it Friday out here.  Maybe they’re open all day today.  Check it out online and call me back. (check, check, click, click, no holiday information, drive to bank, read sign on door, go inside because the sign on the front door addressed only Thursday and Friday, both closed, no mention of today) Excuse me, ma’am, the sign here in the lobby says you’re open to 5pm, is that true for the Sevierville branch as well? Amazingly, an actual operational bank is open until 5pm when it normally closes at 12:30!! (drive, stop at Burger King, drive, speed dial) Why don’t you go get your check toward the end of the day to give yourself more workshop time and since I’m supposed to get off earlier than usual, I’ll go across the street to Wally’s and get the groceries and you can go straight home. Okay, I’ll check back with you later.

Man, those Whoppers are huge!  They’re whoppers!  I can’t believe I ate the whole thing after the sausage, eggs, hash browns breakfast and the unlimited powdered sugar almond cookies Sandi gave me. Eventually I was full, really full, uncomfortably full, and proceeded to get buried in the work load.  Around 4:45 I checked my phone and saw “missed call, missed call, missed call, missed call, missed call, missed call.” Yeah. I guess it was in the drawer all day on stun.

(one ringy dingy … ) You rang?  Don’t go to Wally’s.  I’m at Kroger, almost done, heading home. I’m picking up a pizza for tonight (rumble, burp) Get what you like, I don’t think I will be eating pizza tonight.

After getting off work a full 39 minutes earlier than normal shift end, nine hours after I clocked in early, I filled the gas tank at a much more acceptable $18 instead of $35, dropped off the snow flakes, chose a Glenn Miller CD over Sean Hannity for rest of the drive home, hobbled into the house where I was met with a flake escapee, ignored the pizza, changed clothes, and flopped on the sofa where I stretched both my middle and my heels.

“Hey, there, (daughter on the west coast). I need an address from you.  Give me a call back.  It’s a holiday tomorrow so I can stay up late tonight.”

You’re gonna crash by 9! It’s 9:13 and I’m still up, and Honey has completed his third sofa cat nap.  But she’d better hustle before my sofa nap.


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