Unable to properly negotiate the terms of just
when the heck I’m allowed to sleep versus when I’m suddenly forced to take a monumental
power nap, I made one small pledge to myself on a quiet Friday night.
Theoretical “Mr. Sandman” willing (during my current recovery from the
oppressive weight of grief as I learn to cope with the loss of my feline Best
Friend and the eerie emptiness of an apartment after sixteen and a half years…),
I would kindly grant myself FULL permission to sleep until 2 PM on what looked
to be a glorious overcast Saturday with conditions most favorable towards the
joy of hard-core dreaming; despite the inevitable likelihood of my flopping
irritably around the bed sheets in search of my kitty and/or stupid cell phone
to turn off the damn alarm clock at such a God-forsaken early afternoon hour!!!
But I digress… (She typed calmly, taking a simple
deep breath.)
(And
by the way, “Mr. Sandman” apparently makes no such deals, as the theoretical THUG
booted my ass awake at 4 AM, FFS…)
But I digress… (She typed calmly again, taking a
second deep breath.)
There were really only two things that I wished to
challenge myself to accomplish that Saturday:
I wanted to be able to send my Dad his Father’s Day gift (that I had selected months ago!) in a
timely fashion; and I desperately needed to purchase some lip-goo. (Chap Stick, Blistex, Carmex, what have
you.) Call the latter a stupid ritual,
but frankly I can’t sleep without it.
Doh! (I think I just had a light bulb moment as I
typed that!)
And although Cecilia (my car) is running like a
charm, I’m realizing that, for now,
my personal reaction time isn’t as prompt as perhaps it needs to be (light bulb above being a most excellent
example); nor do I need to be driving at all if I’m only travelling three
silly blocks away.
And as I completely understand that my parents
wanted to send their child some comfort all the way from Indiana to California (and who had already sent beautiful
flowers!!!); I tackled the box of a pair of shoes sent from their work
place wherein the sadistic, over-zealous, card-board-loving shipping Fiend from
Hell had so meticulously brown-taped the package within an inch of its life so
as to be nearly irretrievable without a freakin’ box cutter knife!!!
But I digress… (She typed calmly, taking a third
deep breath.)
Eventually slipping into the “Antique Wine” hand-stitched
loafers (sooo out of my general price
range), I padded around my empty home for a test run around 9 AM.
Huh.
Soft!
Supportive!
Oh, these could definitely work for me!
And putting on a bit of make-up so as not to scare
any of the local children (which I DO occasionally
enjoy), I padded down the street.
I was ambling kind of normally!
I wasn’t the lady with the sore foot impeding
other pedestrian’s paths!
In fact, I suspect I was literally re-learning how
to walk again on my own two feet!
And spying a kind-looking, gentle lady dressed in
a spectacularly colorful caftan or muumuu (I’m
not really sure what to call it) slowly descending from a metro bus with
her walker, I smiled politely as she independently insisted on getting her own footing and proceeding forward
without any assistance from myself or the driver.
What a beautiful fighter!
What a glorious inspiration!
What the BLOODY HELL was up with her meeting my
appreciative heart-felt gaze, and SCOWLING at me with some sort of EVIL EYE
HEX?!?!
And just like that…
IT
WAS ON!!!
>>><<<
While I’m not particularly proud of my actions at bolting across a street when the computerized
“hand” was flashing orange to quickly finish using the crosswalk; I made it
safely to the next block, leaving the mean old muumuu-wearing crabby Gypsy at
the last intersection, as I may or may not have uttered any words to myself
that could or could not have possibly sounded like “SUCK ON THAT!”
But I digress… (She typed calmly; grateful to have
any breaths to take.)
>>><<<
Padding home after mailing my Father’s Day gift, I
sat in my apartment, remorseful, and staring at my loafers (which by definition alone should indicate an act of idleness and
henceforth all manner of “loafing”), I found myself taking to the streets
once again.
After all, I still needed lip goo…
And muttering pleasantly to myself regarding my
magical powers of defying the Gypsy’s curse, the wondrousness of my loafers
that strove to be so much more than the humble label that they’d been given,
and patting myself on the back for getting my butt out of the house TWICE I
stopped at a crosswalk to await the next light change and hopeful safe passage.
But facing difficult emotions of loss and mourning
that can whack you upside the back of your head when you least expect it, sometimes
that’s all you can achieve before The Sandman lets you buy lip goo, then
declares you officially DONE for the day.
>>><<<
Remembering to breathe,
~Penny the Loafer
>>><<<
Author’s
Addendum:
I was almost certain that the Gypsy had cursed me
as I nurtured shin splints from scampering across the street – but her wimpy dark
magic was absolutely NO match for the vengeful ghost of my deceased crappy Landlord,
Mr. Yang…
And with a knock on the door of my apartment, I
was presented with sincerest apologies for the loss of my kitty from one of his
sons, as well as an envelope containing a copy of my original rental agreement
(signed and dated by me and the previous owner of the building back in 1988).
“Dear
Penny:
Enclosed
is a check for $100.00 to return your pet deposit to you. I am very sorry to
hear that your cat has passed away. I
have determined that no pets will be allowed on or about the premises in the
future. I have enclosed a copy of your
lease. As per item “K” titled
“Pets/Water Bed” this letter serves as notice that no animal or pet is to be
kept on or about the premises for any amount of time in the future.”
Huh.
Yeah, well, God
forbid a new feline in my home (not
that I’m even emotionally REMOTELY ready at this point) should dare to ruin
such priceless carpeting that was installed prior to 1988 by the former
Landlord!
Meanwhile, I’m neither confirming nor denying that
I may or may not be currently shopping the underground market for a more
powerful time-traveling Gypsy with a significantly eviler eye and access to a
1970’s moderately leaky Water Bed…
Gee, I hope the scion of Mr. Yang overseeing my
rent-controlled apartment is cool with my massive stable of High Horses!!! :)
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