Archive: Gripe

When I saw the rain coming down this morning, my first thought was how much of a rock star I would be if I got through both my run and Ted’s walk in it, but as soon as I stepped outside, my thin windbreaker clung wetly to me, and all I could think about during those twenty-five minutes was getting home to shower, except that — oh, yeah — I had to walk the dog, who decided that this morning would be the perfect occasion to stop a dozen times and not do his business, which I suppose didn’t matter that much because I was already drenched, but I had shed my soaked sneakers and cotton socks for flip flops, which were not the ideal choice of footwear for sloshing through puddles and slippery sidewalks, but we finally made it home, and Ted began to bark for some unknown reason, and I was almost on my way to the crazy house when JG emerged from the bedroom so I could escape to the shower after zoning out during the first segment of the Today show (are Matt and Meredith ever on the show together any more?), and then I realized, as I pulled out clothes for today, that an impromptu barbecue at a friend’s house yesterday rendered us completely leftover-free, so I would have no lovely, warm leftovers for lunch and would have to settle for a turkey wrap from the cafeteria, where my employee discount only partially makes up for the dubious levels of MSG and trans fat lying in wait in my food, so I woefully packed up yogurt and applesauce for breakfast and headed on out to the office in the rain, and during my walk to my building, I found that a support in my blue, snake skin-patterned umbrella was broken, so it couldn’t puff out properly, but, thankfully, it was sufficient enough to shield me during the walk, and as I sat down at my desk, I remembered that I meant to upload pictures from the weekend of baked goods and a funny stop sign and Ted in our friends’ pool, and I wonder what I was doing all that time that I feel so run down this morning, but we were out of the house more than we expected, and when we were at home, I was in the kitchen making carrot cake and cream cheese frosting and brownies and then burritos and black bean salad for dinner today (crap, I never cleaned the bathrooms), and this all does not bode well for my energy level at the gym tonight, but I have been a slacker climber in the past few weeks, and I really need to get down to business if I am to have any chops at all, but I am just so darn tired, and I feel like a Neanderthal with my congestion-induced mouth-breathing, and my teeth aligners make my jaw ache, and the sinus pressure won’t quit, and I am utterly dismayed that the week has only just begun.

During the morning walk with Ted today, I noticed a car in the neighborhood with one of those ribbon bumper stickers. This one was teal, and the letters on the twisted ribbon ends read, “Ovarian Cancer Awareness,” and, as is the custom when I see one such bumper sticker, the phrase struck me as odd.

I am not an oncologist or anything, but I would say that I am aware of ovarian cancer in that I know it exists and is a risk for which tests should be regularly run. Generally, I am aware that there are endangered animals, children are hungry in other countries, and people have terminal illnesses. I would even go so far as to say that I might be aware of these issues even without a handy bumper sticker, but I suppose the reminder can’t hurt.

What does the bumper sticker really accomplish? I guess the money from its purchase may go toward environmental conservation efforts or medical research once expenses are covered. I question their effectiveness, but I am even more flummoxed about those stunts to “raise awareness.” A guy will sit on a flagpole for 27 hours to demonstrate how many people are afflicted with some such condition every day, and he gets featured on the local news, but I am unclear what happens as a result. I wonder if people go home and then donate money or time to help out the cause, or if they simply gaze up at the weirdo on the flagpole.

That’s not to say that I am not in favor of supporting medical research, saving the planet, or feeding needy people. There are so many good causes to support, and they justifiably need people’s time and money to continue providing services and doing work, which can’t happen without informing and educating those people. I just don’t understand the drive to raise awareness, especially with a strange stunt, when most causes need money, goods, and time, not just acknowledgment that the need exists.

Maybe it’s that word that bothers me — awareness. To me, it implies cognizance and information, but not necessarily with any inherent action. I would like to be aware of a nasty dog behind a fence, traffic jams, or broken glass on the floor. Putting terminal illness and hunger on the same level seems imprecise, not to mention insensitive, and that impression only deepens when I see it on a bumper sticker.

Okay, I’m aware of ovarian cancer! Now, what?

Yesterday, my office phone rang at 4pm.

RA: Editorial Services, this is RA.

Voice: Hi, RA, this is Joe.

RA: Oh! Hi! How are you?

Joe: I’m fine. Listen, I was just wondering if you were coming in tomorrow.

RA: … Yes, I am.

Joe: Would it be possible for me to catch a ride with you? My car is in the garage tomorrow.

RA: (extra chirpy) No problem, that’s fine.

Joe: Can we say the usual time, say, 7:40?

RA: Uh, let’s shoot for 7:45.

Joe: Okay, that sounds good. See you then.

Here we go again, I thought. I had no problem with the idea that we would pitch in when circumstances arose, like a car inspection, but I was wary that this impromptu call would launch another everyday arrangement. Even worse, I was still somehow paralyzed at the thought of suggesting that we change up the schedule. Something was wrong with me such that I was incapable of saying that I usually leave at 8, or sometimes even 8:15! In my opinion, the driver should set the pick-up time, not the passenger. If the carpool is presumably an equal trade-off, doesn’t that seem fair? I mean, I am willing to drag myself out of bed earlier for the benefit of not having to drive. But to wake up early for the privilege of anxiously clutching at my steering wheel because I have a passenger was hardly appealing. Oh, dread.

This morning, I pulled into Joe’s driveway at 7:45 on the dot, at least according to my watch. In addition to my normal driving apprehension, I was nervous about the atmosphere of conversation, which was usually a bit stilted anyway. We hadn’t been in contact for quite a while, and I braced myself for when it would come up again.

Joe: So, I’ve been meaning to call you these last few weeks.

RA: (too brightly) Oh, it’s no problem! I don’t mind going case-by-case like this.

Joe: Oh, okay.

RA: I’m out a lot this coming month, too, so I don’t know how consistent I would be.

Joe: …

Phew. Awkward, yes, but I hope I got my willing-to-drive-but-not-crazy-about-it message across. The rest of the drive passed by without major incident, although I did have to brake rather suddenly at one point, which prompted sheepish apology on my part. I heaved a sigh of relief once I dropped Joe off at his building, that is, after I lightly bumped a curb in the driveway. Oops.

In good news, by some car-switching trickery, I don’t have to drive Joe home today, so I can take advantage of my early arrival time by cutting out before usual. JG is finally on summer break from school, so he took my morning shift with Ted (I walked Ted twice yesterday because JG was golfing), and my routine wasn’t as disrupted as it could have been. And it’s Friday! The humidity is low, and I have plans tonight to meet a few girls in downtown Kennett Square to catch a drink and a showing of Amelie. Things are looking up.

Over the lovely weekend:

• Caught up on about four hours of DVRed television.
• Tried out a Redbox rental kiosk for the first time.
• Saw Casino Royale. Liked it. Was totally worth the $1.06 rental fee.
• Realized that it was the first Bond flick I’d seen from beginning to end. Resolved to see Goldeneye at some point.
• Had delicious dinners of barbecue chicken with cornbread and broccoli mac and cheese gratin.
• Got a glimpse of why people enjoy watching hockey when high-definition television magically revealed the puck to me.
• Reorganized a closet to more efficiently store staples of paper products, candles, light bulbs, and other random household goods that are completely necessary in a moment of crisis.

This morning:

• Woke up at some ungodly hour of night with intense pain in my left eye, which was bloodshot and watering profusely. Staggered to the bathroom to get some eye drops.
• Woke up at the sound of my alarm with the same pain, plus a stuffy nose.
• Asked JG why he was walking so funny. Was concerned to hear that he had mysterious, intense pain in his hips and could barely walk, but he had to go into school today to give tests.
• Tried eye drops again, but the eye was terribly sensitive to light. Instant headache. Pushed glasses onto my face to walk Ted.
• Stepped out in the pouring rain and driving wind, which was only mitigated by the knowledge that I did not have to drive to work today.
• Passed my carpool partner’s car and saw that he had a flat tire. Left JG a voicemail to please not take my car because I would probably need to drive.
• Briefly considered throwing in the towel on being put-together today, but instead made a small effort in the hopes that it would make me feel better. It did, just slightly.
• Got a call from my carpool partner, Joe, about the flat tire. Cheerfully agreed to drive, gritting my teeth all the while.
• Took some allergy medicine and ibuprofen to stave off the attractive bloodshot eye and ensuing headache.
• Gritted my teeth again when Joe asked if we could stop for coffee, since he didn’t have time to make some at home, and even though I wouldn’t buy anything. Felt like a chauffeur while waiting in the parking lot of the coffee place.

I am now freezing in my office. My left eyelid is drooping, hag-like, and I must have taken the two dud pills from the ibuprofen bottle. Any eye make-up I applied is destined to run off into tissues from dabbing at my eye or smudge into my face. Five o’clock seems like a long time from now.

Monday, I want a do-over.