A Day

Beginning with the normal in and out of consciousness starting at 6:00am. I never need to rise at this hour and I wonder why my internal clock is set to it. This morning in particular is soundtracked to the thunder rolling outside my window and the rain puddling the cement below my windowsill.

Three hours of this in and out and at 9:00am, I give into the start of today. I had eaten my way to the edible end of my fridge and tossed everything else. Condiments with expirations dating to the golden years of 2008&9. The Glad bag was a heavy and a stinky one, but a necessary one to test it's claim of durability. We've all got to our part as consumers. I was close to finding a clothing hanger for this one.

I had a morning of serious grocery shopping to do. The kind of grocery shopping that I put my ear buds in for and cruise every aisle. Top down, screaming out 'Money ain't a thang'! It's the type of day to fill the cart and expect to drop at least a hundred dollars. I'll be lucky to get away with less than $150.

Mmmm... the most delicious $130 ever.

After lunch I force myself to take a nap. Since I know I never sleep and have to make use of the void in my schedule.

I head into work and aim to pull up to a meter at 4:00. It's tournament season; the parking is routinely poor. I am surprised that even at this hour, I circle laps not once but twice. I counted out my quarters, surely enough to buy the remain thirty minutes St. Paul requires. I count away the chance to wash my long-ignored work blacks.

My guess is it took me three minutes to vacate my vehicle, cross the parking lot, enter my building, ride the elevator up three floors, head backstage and walk the ramp to my stage door. At the top of that ramp I see something. I see out the third floor window, across the parking lot and at my car. Next to my car, a cop with a green stripey envelope in his hand. Making his move for my wiper blade. Even at this distance. A good three hundred feet hypotenuse, I'd say. I can see his disappointment. For a second I flash 'What the hell?'. Then I realize that I counted out those quarters but I surely didn't deposit them properly. I deserve that one, Copper. You win this time. I suppose I'll contribute to my Monday night street sweeping.

So the first three minutes of my shift were the unlucky ones. Got that out of way. Thank god.

A recital for middle school kids is underway. I change into my concert blacks. I've worn the appropriate and favored outfits into an unpleasant funk. I remain without quarters or the heart to pick 'the blacks' over 'the everyday' for the rare spin cycle opportunity. The last few shows I have pillaged my closet for the reject blacks. The blacks that are gray. Lack pockets. Or too tight. Or too short.

I went with the gray blacks tonight. Pulling them on, I felt something stiff in the pocket.
'Good god', I think. I haven't worn these pants in three years, 'What horribly, disgusting thing am I going to find in here?' I will admit to being nervous reaching into my pocket tonight. Bravely, I go for it. I come up with... two bucks!

For the next person that comes to my house - Will you please go into my purse, find whatever cash I may have and hide it in various pockets of mine? Finding money makes me ridiculously happy.

The show goes on with a bunch of adorably nervous kids and me scrambling to make them less so. Somewhere in there I become the telephone operator, connecting my incommunicado sister with my parents - arranging rides and dinner plans. End of show and I get to make this concert hall a blank space. I got my power tools. I got my muscle. I'm getting dizzy throwing 150 chairs.

Halfway there.

At 9:45 I take a cupcake break.

I collect my soggy ticket at 10:30pm.



Ahhh... life. A day just like any other. We'll do it again sometime, I'm sure.