Do you ever get into one of those silly good moods where it doesn't seem like anything's wrong and you catch yourself vocalizing your plans for the weekend to no one in particular using the melodies of songs you can't normally stand, but just happened to hear playing in someone's cubicle on your way out of the office?
I finished my workout, ate a little dinner while watching a particularly silly episode of Dr. Who, and took a few phone calls. I figured I might head out to the beach, maybe shoot some pool or something - so I jumped in the shower, started getting dressed, and answered the phone again.
I wouldn't call my place organized or clean, but it's not a horrible mess either. Dishes and junk mail pile up, sometimes I'm lazy about putting away clean laundry, but for the most part you can see the floor when you need to. The cats sometimes like to knock stuff off of the computer desk, or use the batteries from the remote control as toys -- but even then it's usually not a big deal when something isn't where you expect it to be. So when my wallet wasn't next to my keys on the desk it didn't seem like that big a deal. I headed into the other room and checked the other place I sometimes put it, and then looked underneath the mail that I had brought in that evening.
I think I might have joked about the search to J on the phone, but for the most part I was still just continuing the conversation I was having while I looked around for it.
But then sometimes it gets me into trouble. Sometimes I'll get into a book or a TV show and I'll lose track of time, stay up a little too late and then find myself falling asleep at work, or run out of gas in the middle of nowhere because I didn't really take the time to think about how much gas I had left in the tank when I started driving. I get mad at myself for being sort of a dumbass, but sometimes habits are hard to change. Sometimes the best thing we can do is just know ourselves a little better, and do what we can to be ready for the mistakes we always tend to make when we aren't thinking.
Sometimes my bumbling is cute. It makes for funny stories and kinda adds something to my character -- and I've never been above playing on that. But there are times when the implications of everything just get under your skin and burn. I mean, this isn't like I was bumped into by some cute kid who later delivered my wallet to Fagin so they could sing and dance about it in cockney accents on the rooftops of London, this is like I probably dropped it while I was in some parking lot across town and if I don't cancel all my cards in the next two hours Christmas is fucking cancelled.
The whole thing put me in a rotten mood all weekend. The more I tore my apartment apart, the more I retraced my steps from the entire week, the more I knew I was grasping at straws. Not a day ago I was finishing the first week at a new job, singing fake lyrics, and feeling good about myself and now here I was listening to some zit-faced teenage customer service drone at Target tell me what a bummer it must be to lose your wallet and not be able to find it during the holidays.
It shouldn't have, but the whole thing just got me pissy about all of my lackadaisical habits, the lack of direction in my life, and how I seem to always let good things slip away just because I'm not always focused enough to hold on to them before they drive halfway across the country with someone else. By Sunday afternoon I was just sitting on the couch stewing in all of this while watching my Broncos get their asses handed to them by San Diego (again).
A few minutes later I headed to the coffee machine for a refill and tried to smile at the strangers who said hello. My heart wasn't in it, but moping around wasn't going to do me any more good. It was time to make the phone calls and start looking for a new billfold. Maybe one of those deals with the chain attached so I can tie it to myself just in case something like this ever happens again.
When I got back to my desk there was a janitor's cart in the doorway, and a guy in a blue suit who was apparently browsing through the titles on my mp3 player while I was away (!?). It was one of those instant opportunities, one of those trigger moments when all the built up frustration and rage suddenly finds a place to call home, even if it's not related to anything at all.
I don't know who this dude was, but it didn't even matter. Darth Vader desperately needed to choke a bitch, and whether he deserved it or not -- this guy was it.
And that's when he turned around, held up my missing wallet, and said:
'What you gon' do with all that junk, all that junk that's in your trunk?The week hadn't been without its little dramas here and there, but all things considered I was feeling pretty good. I'd gotten through a week of work without screwing up, falling asleep, or getting fired. The people I worked with all seemed pretty cool, for the most part I'm left alone to do my work, and with the holidays coming up the possibility of having an actual income for a change was making me feel like things were starting to finally turn around a little bit.
Imma go cash this check, buy some groceries and go get drunk!"
It's funny how the littlest things have a way of changing your entire outlook.I got home, put some dinner in the oven, and worked out. I really didn't have any specific plans for the evening, but I finally had a weekend that meant something and I wasn't in a mood to waste it. Most likely I would end up hitting the regular haunts, throwing back a few drinks, whatever -- but it wasn't so much what I did that mattered. It was the fact that I wanted to go out. I wanted to do something.
I finished my workout, ate a little dinner while watching a particularly silly episode of Dr. Who, and took a few phone calls. I figured I might head out to the beach, maybe shoot some pool or something - so I jumped in the shower, started getting dressed, and answered the phone again.
I wouldn't call my place organized or clean, but it's not a horrible mess either. Dishes and junk mail pile up, sometimes I'm lazy about putting away clean laundry, but for the most part you can see the floor when you need to. The cats sometimes like to knock stuff off of the computer desk, or use the batteries from the remote control as toys -- but even then it's usually not a big deal when something isn't where you expect it to be. So when my wallet wasn't next to my keys on the desk it didn't seem like that big a deal. I headed into the other room and checked the other place I sometimes put it, and then looked underneath the mail that I had brought in that evening.
I think I might have joked about the search to J on the phone, but for the most part I was still just continuing the conversation I was having while I looked around for it.
It's funny how the littlest things have a way of changing your entire outlook.I'm absent-minded sometimes. I'll get all tied up in something I'm doing and forget about something else. Most of the times the consequences are harmless -- I'm habitually 5 minutes late for things I'm supposed to show up for, or I'll wake up in the morning to find ice trays full of water sitting on the counter next to the refrigerator. There have also been occasions where I've had to go down to the car in order to retrieve my wallet from the armrest/storage thing between the seats because I took it out to use an ATM or go through a drive thru or something. Kind of a hassle, but not really that big a deal, you know?
But then sometimes it gets me into trouble. Sometimes I'll get into a book or a TV show and I'll lose track of time, stay up a little too late and then find myself falling asleep at work, or run out of gas in the middle of nowhere because I didn't really take the time to think about how much gas I had left in the tank when I started driving. I get mad at myself for being sort of a dumbass, but sometimes habits are hard to change. Sometimes the best thing we can do is just know ourselves a little better, and do what we can to be ready for the mistakes we always tend to make when we aren't thinking.
Which is probably why I started to panic a little when my wallet didn't turn up in the truck.Looking through my pants pockets became crawling on my hands and knees under the computer desk, which became tossing couch cushions aside and digging around every nook and cranny of my place without luck. There was a lot of pacing the floor, mental retracing of steps, trying to figure out where I might have left it. And it was in that train of thought where the real problem started to come into focus -- I hadn't taken a lunch Friday, and really didn't really stop anywhere on the way to work in the morning or later that afternoon on the way home. In fact, if my recollections were correct the last time I clearly remembered having and using my wallet was when I stopped at a grocery store to get a gallon of milk
..last Thursday night.As the reality of the whole thing started to set in I just started to get more and more pissed off. My whole world was in there -- driver's license, social security card, ATM card.. I had no idea where it could be. I didn't know if it was stolen, or lost, or if someone was out Christmas shopping on my dime right now. But worst of all, I was pissed at myself for being so careless. It was this kind of lack of discipline that let me fall asleep at that other job, it was this sort of half-assed thinking that probably led to all the other times I ended up broke, divorced, and alone.
Sometimes my bumbling is cute. It makes for funny stories and kinda adds something to my character -- and I've never been above playing on that. But there are times when the implications of everything just get under your skin and burn. I mean, this isn't like I was bumped into by some cute kid who later delivered my wallet to Fagin so they could sing and dance about it in cockney accents on the rooftops of London, this is like I probably dropped it while I was in some parking lot across town and if I don't cancel all my cards in the next two hours Christmas is fucking cancelled.
The whole thing put me in a rotten mood all weekend. The more I tore my apartment apart, the more I retraced my steps from the entire week, the more I knew I was grasping at straws. Not a day ago I was finishing the first week at a new job, singing fake lyrics, and feeling good about myself and now here I was listening to some zit-faced teenage customer service drone at Target tell me what a bummer it must be to lose your wallet and not be able to find it during the holidays.
It shouldn't have, but the whole thing just got me pissy about all of my lackadaisical habits, the lack of direction in my life, and how I seem to always let good things slip away just because I'm not always focused enough to hold on to them before they drive halfway across the country with someone else. By Sunday afternoon I was just sitting on the couch stewing in all of this while watching my Broncos get their asses handed to them by San Diego (again).
..I don't even remember falling asleep.I woke up this morning slow, and got to work a little late. It wasn't so much like driving to work as it was sleepwalking. I was in a sour mood and I had a whole day of cancelling credit cards ahead of me just in case I needed to be reminded of what a dumbass I had been. Even sitting at my desk was aggravating, as I couldn't help but be completely aware of the missing lump in my back pocket.
A few minutes later I headed to the coffee machine for a refill and tried to smile at the strangers who said hello. My heart wasn't in it, but moping around wasn't going to do me any more good. It was time to make the phone calls and start looking for a new billfold. Maybe one of those deals with the chain attached so I can tie it to myself just in case something like this ever happens again.
When I got back to my desk there was a janitor's cart in the doorway, and a guy in a blue suit who was apparently browsing through the titles on my mp3 player while I was away (!?). It was one of those instant opportunities, one of those trigger moments when all the built up frustration and rage suddenly finds a place to call home, even if it's not related to anything at all.
I don't know who this dude was, but it didn't even matter. Darth Vader desperately needed to choke a bitch, and whether he deserved it or not -- this guy was it.
And that's when he turned around, held up my missing wallet, and said:
"Guess what I found in the parking lot Friday night!"
[Listening to: Skindred, "Together"]
Comments