Monday, October 23, 2006

Monday, Monday...

can't trust that day,
Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way.
Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be
-John Phillips, Monday Monday

This morning I woke-up feeling blue. Don't know why, just woke-up feeling like I was in the middle of February after 20 days of overcast skies. When I pulled back the bedroom curtains I discovered that instead of it being a dreary day that matched my mood it was in reality a bright, sunny, beautiful Fall day. Although that lifted my spirits a bit it wasn't until I caught sight of Duke out of the corner of my eye that I perked up.

Duke is still wearing his Elizabethan collar, which means he is still trying to figure out a way to get it off. What caught my eye was him in the yard spinning around like a whirling Dervish in an attempt to dislodge the damn thing. I did not know dogs understood the concept of centrifugal force. I started laughing and could feel my spirits lift with each exhaling breath.

Later in the morning I walked up to the grocery store to buy a few things. That's where I got stuck in a long line of customers waiting to be checked out by the slowest checker in the store. The woman in front of me had just a few things but the woman in front of her had a grocery cart full and as I expected it took awhile for her groceries to be scanned and bagged. At that point the store phone rang and the clerk answered it. While this was going on the woman in front of me moved up to the check writing ledge and set her purse down.

She stood there and watched as the clerk took the phone call. She watched as the clerk announced over the intercom that there was a phone call for "Bob." She watched as the grocery clerk swiped her items over the scanner. She watched as the grocery clerk totaled her order. She watched at the bag boy bagged her order and she watched as the clerk announced the amount due on what had been scanned. Then, and only then, she reached into her purse, pulled out a check book, opened it, picked up a pen, and slowly started filling the check out. My blood pressure hit the ceiling. One of my pet peeves is people who do not start filling out their checks the minute they reach the check ledge. They know they are going to pay with a check. Start filling the damn thing out the minute you get up there! OK???

By the time I got back home I was on an even keel and after putting my groceries away I started fixing something for lunch. As I stood at the kitchen counter slicing a tomato I felt something tickle my neck right above my turtleneck collar. Without thinking I reached up and put my index finger and thumb between my skin and the collar and closed them. I felt something hard and thought my fingers were surounding a small twig but for some reason I panicked. I yanked my hand away from my neck and instinctively threw what I was holding away from me. Whatever it was hit the backsplash behind the sink with a small thud.

Feeling a little foolish I stepped over to the sink to look at what had frightened me and was horrified to see a live Yellow Jacket wasp crawling on the cold-water faucet handle. I walked across the kitchen to get the fly swatter but when I got back the wasp was gone. Now I was really freaking out because (1) I had no idea where it was and (2) because I am allergic to wasp stings. I did not want this thing in my house. I called my husband from the living room and we both started looking for it. My husband said the wasp must be cold or I would not have been able to pick it up. It could not have flown too far. That bit of information was no comfort to me. I just wanted this thing out of my house.

We started searching the kitchen. We looked on the floor just in case it fell off the counter and was crawling around down there. My husband started pulling things on the counter away from the wall to see if it crawled behind any of them. I kept looking up because I was sure the wasp was not as cold as my husband thought it was and that it was still able to fly. After another look around the kitchen at ceiling level I glanced down at the stove I was standing next to and saw the wasp crawling on one of the burner grates closest to me. I had the fly swatter in my hand but the thought of touching it in any way was inconceivable to me at that point so I called my husband over. Being braver than I he didn't need a fly swatter. He got a couple of paper napkins, picked up the wasp, crushed it, and threw it in the trash.

Let's see. So far this morning I have felt sadness, happiness, anger, horror, fear, anxiety, and relief. Why can't it be Tuesday already?

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