the anti-day off
As my alarm went off at 750 this morning, and I grumbled myself awake enough to shut it off, I contemplated (ever so briefly, as I was not yet fully awake) what exactly it means to have a day off. Today was supposed to be mine, so as I dialed into the mandatory eight AM conference call from my bed, I took the time to look it up in the dictionary.
day off - a day when you are not required to work; “Wednesday is her day off”
I was only slightly consoled by the fact that I was able to call from home and therefore didn’t need to shower or change out of my pajamas, especially after forty five minutes of listening to information that I was already infinitely familiar with. I could have stayed asleep! And to top it off…I had a migraine. It was one of those sorts of headaches that I rarely get, but almost completely disable me. So of course, I got up and proceeded to do all of the “day off” activities that I had planned.
Stop one – the high school.
The only bright spot of any trip to the high school is when I can do or say something to embarrass my teenagers. Perhaps it was the throbbing behind my eyes, perhaps it was my twisted sense of humor, but I proceeded to pretend I could see lines of code in the drop ceiling of the guidance office. I know, recycled Matrix joke from last night’s blog, but they didn’t know that. The genuine pained look on my face was what sold the gag. I wasn’t concerned about the other teenagers thinking I was certifiable, but my daughter has never moved faster in her life than she did when we were finally able to leave the building. It didn’t help my headache any, but definitely improved my mood. And I was one step closer to the payback I promised my children from some past embarrassment they set upon me.
Stop two – lunch.
What could be better on your day off than having lunch with friends? Having lunch with friends when you don’t have a migraine? Too bad for me. But, bright spot…got to see friends for lunch. And because, while trouble shooting the root cause of my headache, it was suggested that perhaps my recent ban on caffeine could be the culprit, I decided to drink a diet Coke to reverse the horrible withdrawal. Three diet Cokes later I still had the headache AND I had to pee really bad, which brings us to…
Stop three – the DMV.
Never—and I mean never—pee at the DMV. I don’t mean on the floor, but of course, you should never do that either. I mean never use the ladies room at the DMV. I think they may actually plant nasty things in the restrooms to discourage people from using them. As if all the unnecessary flushing costs too much for their budget. I don’t believe I have ever seen the volume of pubic hair on a toilet seat that I saw today. Was someone shaving as they stood over the toilet? I suppose it’s not impossible. The DMV is never located in the nicer parts of town. Perhaps people don’t have proper facilities where they are. But could you at least brush it off the seat and flush it? I mean…seriously? Yuck! But after three diet Cokes, I didn’t have much choice. I grabbed a wad of paper to wipe off the seat and I did what any self respecting woman would do…I hovered. And I washed my hands for five full minutes. I even managed to get out of the room without touching a single surface with my clean hands. And now my daughter has a drivers permit!
Stop four – shopping. There were a few stops in between, but due to the pain in my head, I can only barely remember them. By this time, it was dark and I was with my husband. We ate dinner and set off on a shopping expedition looking for laptops and potting shed—two completely unrelated needs at our house.
Men are so strange. When I exclaimed that I was having fun shopping, Mike said it wasn’t fun it was a chore. He said SHOPPING is a chore. What? A chore? Shopping? How could that be? Shopping is fun! I love to shop. Sometimes I don’t buy. In fact, I frequently don’t buy. I just like to shop. For example: purses. I love purses. I didn’t used to. I used to just buy the cheapest purse that matched my needs. But now I feel compelled to own the finest bags. Like Coach. I have 4 Coach handbags, and I have my eye on a fifth. But I don’t buy from the Coach store or even the Coach outlet; I buy from Girlfriend’s Consignment Boutique in Kennesaw. Because when I buy Coach from Girlfriend’s I’m spending a fraction of the cost. And I’m ok with that. Do you have any idea how much a Coach bag costs when you buy it first hand? I could eat at a nice restaurant ten times for what I would spend on that bag. And that’s on sale! If I buy consignment, I can eat out 9 times and pull my wallet out of a really nice bag!
But we weren’t even looking at purses. We were shopping for man things—electronics and garden sheds! I just don’t get it.
Final stop - back home. I still have the headache, but it’s lessened. And it’s time to go to bed again, so maybe if I’m lucky I will wake up without it tomorrow morning. And tomorrow is Thursday, which is only one day from Friday, and Saturday is Valentine’s Day, and if my husband bothered to shop…oh wait. My husband hates to shop! I can still look forward to the weekend I guess!
Until the next time…I’ll be taking an aspirin and calling you in the morning!