Sometimes I get bogged down in my self-imposed pit of pithyness where I take everything I have written down in my little faithful notebook that never leaves my side and transform it into a blog. I get little ideas in my head constantly. When these ideas come to me, I write them down (day or night, seriously). Occasionally I look at what I have written and wonder what made me even think these thoughts but most times it makes sense. Well, to me it does. I have a mind that doesn’t work like most minds do. I constantly see the funny, often irritating side of things in day to day happenings and they get turned around in weird ways with my unusual sense of humor. Thus, I have the aforementioned pit.
As an example, I was driving to work the yesterday and as I entered the highway, a man in a rather expensive car came up beside me on the ramp, squeezed in between my car and the one ahead of me (despite the fact there was ample space behind me) and what he did next really boggled my mind and got me thinking in my typical “Soozie” way. This man in this rather expensive car (did I mention that?) risked life and limb to cross two lanes, despite the fact that someone else already occupied them, to get to the outside lane. I’m already shaking my head in disbelief. He then proceeded to wangle his way back to the right hand lane to exit less than two miles from where he entered. So, as I said, I’m already thinking what in the world is so important to this man that he has to risk his life and others to get to that exit five seconds earlier than I. Maybe he’s an obstetrician and has to deliver a baby…right now! Or he’s late for a meeting that could save the world from possible instant destruction. I’m trying to be fair here. And the answer to this man’s desperate, demon-like rush…wait for it! I caught up to him in the drive through lane at Starbucks. So he drove like a maniac to get a Venti Cinnamon Dolce Frappuccino Light. Seriously, I heard him order it. Of course, I had to write down his order in the event that I would someday need the information.
The previous paragraph has nothing to do with this blog. It’s just a brief sojourn into the way my strange, often wacky, way the mind of Soozie works. Almost criminal, ain’t it?
What I really want to write about is this morning. An I-just-can’t-win kind of morning. It’s early on my day off. I am blissfully, peacefully sitting on my patio enjoying my coffee (how does anyone start their day without a cup, I wonder?). Just plain brew, mind you. Nothing fancy. A little cinnamon cream. The birds are singing, the stray cat that lives on my patio is washing her face. All of a sudden, I hear the buzzing and scraping of motorized equipment all around me. What??? Along comes the local landscaping crew with their edgers and wackers and mowers, oh my! And there I sit, unfettered, uncombed and unpolished, looking as if I had just crawled out of bed. Which I had. Even my nails were undone, no mani, no pedi. And the peacefulness is gone. Shot to hell. There should be a law against early birds mowing the grass. At least wait until nine…or ten. Welcome to city (and apartment) life, Soozie Girl. It’s been a long time. And then there’s my daughter, who says “Well, it is Friday, you know. They always do yard work on Friday.” How would I know? I work most Fridays.
I enter my humble abode to fetter and shower (I think I’ll shower first) to find my always loving and ever so adorable grandson sitting on the counter eating jelly beans in a bucket of leftover coffee. How did he get on the counter, you ask? He opened the oven door, climbed up and on his journey to the coffee pot, turned on the oven. So I have a 900 degree kitchen, coffee that didn’t make it into the bucket spilled on the floor and the innocent, handsome face of a three-year-old who asks me with a smile “Want some jelly beans, YaYa? They’re yummy.”
So after an appointment with a wooden spoon, a stern lecture about the perils of turning on the oven and climbing, some scrubbing to clean up the mess, I adjourn to my sanctuary, which in this case is my bedroom, to turn on my computer. My shower is forgotten as I plan to indulge in some tweeting and FB posting. It’s still early and, as I mentioned, it is my day off. And…my computer will not turn on. My. Computer. Will. Not. Turn. On.
Deep breathing. Mantra of “patience, patience, patience.” I unplug it, plug it back in. No luck. I take the battery out, put it back in. No luck. I cuss at it. No luck. Doesn’t understand basic, vulgar English, I guess. I shake it (ok, so I’m really frustrated at this point) and hear a lovely rattle. Take out the battery pack again and remove three pennies, two dimes and a nickel…how did I miss that earlier? I realize that my personal, private sanctuary has been invaded whilst I toiled at my place of employment the day before. Again, the above-mentioned loving and adorable grandson. I removed all coins, put the battery in again and…voila! I’m once again computing. After another stern lecture about the perils of messing with my most prized possession to the three-year-old.
Ah, hell. I’m just going to take a shower, call work and see if they need me today. I’m not in the mood to have a day off. Or perhaps I should take off my really big bitch hat and try to enjoy myself. Voting for the latter. Not really in the mood to work either.
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