I stole this post title from the Wanda Jackson song, Fujiyama Mama. This post has nothing to do with the song but still fits.
Friday evening, we were watching a live feed of the volcano in Iceland. Randy is nearly blind without his glasses and my eyesight is failing rapidly. Either way, we were seeing the video completely different from each other
I mean, if I were to describe how gorgeous it is outside right now, I’d use every cliche in the book. My description would be flowery and overwrought, like a Hallmark card or the poetry I wrote when I was 19.
We have a gorgeous Japanese willow in front of our house. The flowers are just now blooming.
I can tell because my nose has been running like a faucet for days. Once the two gigantic pine trees in the back yard start releasing their tree splooge, our deck will look like it’s covered in cornmeal and my allergy medicine is going to be put to the test.
That willow tree, you guys, we should really remove it. The trunk is only about a foot from the house and the branches press up against the window and get in the gutters. But it’s so pretty. And now? On this perfect day?
Told you it would be all Hallmark-y. Except for the Simpson’s part.
Yesterday wasn’t as gorgeous. It was overcast and chilly. But I still had the most amazing afternoon, thanks to two little neighbor girls that I had never met before.
Which isn’t surprising. Randy and I are ‘keep to ourselves’ kind of people. We make amazing neighbors.
I stepped outside in the late afternoon after working for hours in my home office/slash bedroom on a troubling issue. Two little girls, wearing masks and carrying boxes, stopped on the sidewalk in front of my house.
Little girl number one: Excuse me? But would you like to buy a seashell or a rock?
Me: Thank you, sweetie, but no.
Remember when you tried to sell dandelions you picked and carried around in an upside-down open umbrella? What were you asking? A penny? And you sold zero. Which makes sense, because they were dandelions. But still, it would have been nice to sell one or two.
Me: You know what? Hold on a minute. Why don’t you pick me out a pretty seashell and I’ll be right back.
Randy and I both have junk drawers at the top of our bedroom dresser. His drawer has hair ties, bottle caps, and various medicine bottles. Mine has perfume, bracelets, note cards, and whatever money I find lying around the house. I had three singles in my drawer and took them out to the girls.
Little girl number two: We are donating 25% of our proceeds to the animal shelter.
Me: That is awesome! Do you have pets?
Little girl one: I have a cat and a dog and she has a million cats.
Little girl two: We have a dog and four cats.
Me: I’m so glad you are helping the animal shelter and thank you for picking out such a pretty seashell for me. Now, since you have masks on and I don’t, please back up and I’ll put the money on the bottom step. Then, you can get the money and leave my seashell. And thank you for wearing masks. I’m glad you want us all to be safe.
Little girl two: Ma’am, you don’t have to give us three dollars, we’re selling the seashells for a quarter.
Me: I think this is a three dollar shell. And I want to help the animal shelter, too. You both are wonderful and I hope you sell all of your seashells and rocks.
I felt hope. They wore masks because it is the responsible thing to do. They were friendly and polite. They wanted to take care of the animals. How could I not feel a surge of hope for the future?
I know it was just a tiny little moment at the end of so many awful moments, but it felt like a balm. The weather wasn’t as nice as today, but it was still a beautiful, Hallmark kind of day.
I needed this.
I am counting days until I go back to the office. I alternate between feeling anxious and abject terror when I consider my return. But it’s going to get here. It is.
I’m trying, you guys, I am trying to appreciate every day and I am trying to convince myself that I have not fundamentally changed over the past year and I will be successfully cube dwelling in no time.
And I know I’ll be fine. I’ve been fine up until now. I’ll kick this in the ass.
I hope you all are well and that you have a seashell moment of your own. I mean, it doesn’t have to be an actual seashell or anything. Just a nice moment.
Peace and light.
I can’t remember if I wrote about this before. Maybe? I’m way too lazy to look.
I mean, fatigued.
My immune system went into overdrive after my first Pfizer vaccine on Friday. I felt like ass all day Saturday. Today is Sunday and I’m much better. Just a little achy and tired.
While that is all true, I probably wouldn’t have looked anyway.
Anyway, now that I got the first shot down, that means I’m going to have to go back to work in an office. With other people. I’m weeks away. Do I think it’s going to be horrible? No. I mean probably. It’s been so long. I have a routine. I like my routine. I’m productive and people from work don’t talk to me unless they have to. I’m an introvert. I trained for this lifestyle my entire life.
Do I think it’s going to suck and take a while to get used to? I’d say on a scale from “Rush hour traffic to “Communal bathroom”, I’m looking squarely at a “getting asked over and over if I enjoy being back in the office.” So yeah, definitely going to suck for a while.
Two jobs ago, I worked with a woman who would find her way to my office once a week or so, she would sit down lean in and and say “I couldn’t wait to talk to you. You are going to love this.”
I knew I wouldn’t love it. I was completely positive I wouldn’t love it.
I didn’t love it the dozens and dozens of other times she stopped by to tell me office gossip. Half the time I didn’t even know who the people were she was talking about. We worked in different buildings. It always takes a while for me to meet all the people I work with, because unless I have to work on a project for them or with them, then I respect their privacy. I don’t think I’ve ever had a job where I could correctly identify every person by name. I’ve been at this job for 6 years. I’m going to say I could correctly identify about half the people.
Someone would start telling you something that you have no interest in. In fact, if you are forced to have their words jammed in your ear holes, the slightly good mood you were in is going to slip away. Instead of that happening, you just say “Oh, stop talking.”
I mean, you have be nice.
You should not respond with “Pretty sure I just said stop talking,” You can, however, think it all you want.
I’m just saying, if that were socially acceptable, that would make returning to the office a little easier.
Speaking of people. Damn.
The facility where I got my first shot is a university’s basketball arena. It’s not stadium size or anything, but it’s still pretty fucking big. The national guard was there directing traffic and answering questions. I had to walk into a building with hundreds of people after being around hardly any people for nearly a year.
I got signed in and was directed to a line for the shot.
Some dude got in line behind me and stood maybe 18 inches behind me. So I scooted up a little, trying to send a non-verbal cue, but he just kept right up with me. I had to turn around and tell him he was too close. We should be 6 feet apart.
He was gracious enough. At least he didn’t get mad. I was already freaking out being around people, no way could I handle a confrontation as well.
I got my shot and was directed to another large room with rows and rows of folding chairs set 6 feet apart. We had to sit for 15 minutes to make sure we weren’t going to have a bad reaction to our shot.
I walked to the far end of the row I was directed to and took my sear. The “too close” guy was in the row behind me trying to chat up the girl next to him.
Too close guy: Crazy, isn’t it? It’s good though, we’ll be back to normal soon.
Unsuspecting woman: Um, yeah.
TCG: I hated to take time out of my busy day, but this is important.
UW: Yes.
TCG: I work in finance, have for years. What do you do?
Turns out she also worked in finance. Not that it mattered, no matter her answer, he would use it as a springboard to talk about himself.
TCG: How long have you been at your job?
UW: 20 years.
TCG: You don’t look old enough to have worked anywhere for 20 years.
UW: Well, thanks.
TCG: Yeah, I like to think about retirement. But my wife makes six figures as well and a second home would be really great.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. See? First time I’ve been around other humans in a year and this is the first thing I am forced to listen to? This is why I don’t want to be around people.
I’m just giving you the highlights.
My 15 minutes were up and some National Guard soldier asked if I was feeling okay. I grabbed my purse and said “Yes.”
Apparently, I was a little too enthusiastic for the soldier. He held his hand up and said “Are you sure?”
Oh my god, dude, is this going to be a thing? Are you going to arrest me? Am I going to have to face a firing squad? I want to leave. I want to leave now. I have had my fill of people for the day. Get the fuck out of my way. Or at least tell that dude to stop talking. See? THIS is why we need to be able to say “Stop talking.”
Okay, what I said was “Yes.”
He stepped aside and I went back to the parking lot where Randy was waiting.
Does my story end there? No, because I am me, of course not. But really, I don’t feel like I’m to blame for my wandering up and down through the parking lot looking for our car.
I was careful to note the letter and number on the light pole by our car when I left for my shot. I have been lost in many parking lots and parking garages in my life. There came a time, when I had enough, I went from “never being quite sure where I parked” to “obsessive about remembering where I parked”. Sometimes, I take pictures of landmarks with my phone.
C2. Our car was by C2. Simple enough. No photographic clues were necessary.
It was cold and windy and I was ready to take off my masks. I get to C2 and there’s no car there.
He did not move the car. He noticed that two light poles, fairly far apart, were both labeled C2.
If you are going to use a letter and number scheme on light poles in your parking lot, then they should fucking be unique. This isn’t rocket science.
All in all, a small price to pay to be on my way to fully vaccinated.
I am grateful.
I am relieved.
I am trying not to freak out about rejoining my fellow cube dwellers.
I hope you all are safe and are able to get your vaccination as well.