NOT the last one…I promise. I know I joked a couple of weeks ago, but it’s not over. As long as even one of you reads this, I will write it.
My jeans are too big. I NEVER thought I’d have this problem, but they’re just getting to the annoying point now. I feel like I should start wearing boxers, over-sized, untied, air-filled shoes, and wearing my cap sideways. THAT is never going to happen, so I suppose I shall just stop wearing this pair. I am torn…do I get rid of them in hopes that I’ll never wear this size again, or do I keep them because they’re in really good shape, and super comfy, and I just bought them in June? I don’t know. I am writing a story and I don’t know if I should write it exactly as it happened, or if I should leave out parts. The parts I’m thinking about leaving out are the parts where I said some things I shouldn’t have said. Bad words. I could substitute. But the rest of the story is totally accurate. I’m not sure. Today is the anniversary of the day my Daddy died. 19 years. It’s been 19 years. I can’t believe it. That night, the night I found him, I swore I’d never survive his death, and yet, here I sit, 19 years later. That’s what my story is about. I’m having trouble finishing it. Mostly because it hurts so much to work on it. Partly because I’m not setting aside the time I need to set to work on it. I would like to do it today, but I am too busy. Maybe next week sometime… I cannot believe all that has happened in these 19 years. That’s over half of my life. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It makes me sad, and I need to stay positive today. It didn’t even hit me that today was that day until I was in the bakery this morning, and I looked at something on my calendar. I was in Walmart earlier today and a customer asked an associate where the curling irons were. The associate told her that she didn’t know (“I don’t know, It’s my first day”) and then went back to stocking. That was it. So, I walked over to the customer (who was still standing there, completely dumbfounded) and told her where the curling irons were located. The customer thanked me and walked off toward that area of the store. The associate then had the nerve to tell me it was none of my business. I said, “Well, if you’d told her where they were, I wouldn’t have needed to.” I then asked her if she’d ever been in the store before today, to which she was snotty in relying “yes”. I told her that things haven’t really moved in over a year, and they were still in the same place they were when she was last in the store. She then threatened to tell the manager what I did. By this point my sweetness was wearing thin, and I said, “You would tell on me? This isn’t Kindergarten. Besides, I doubt very much that you’d like me to tell your boss that you wouldn’t even go to the trouble of asking someone else who works here to help a customer find something, and that I felt compelled to help her.” I felt myself getting riled up, so I told her to have a nice day, and walked away. I have a thing about customer service. I like it. I expect it. And I get very agitated when I don’t see it, or when I don’t get it. I once spent 20 minutes in Target helping another customer find what they were looking for, when they then realized (when I apologized for having to leave because I was going to be late for an appointment) that I didn’t work there. I’m just like that. Overly nice? Yeah, probably, but if I can help someone find what they need, I will. If I really don’t have time, I’ll find an associate who will help them. I’m listening to my favorite version of my favorite hymn over and over today. It’s keeping me calm. It’s way better than the David Bowie song that was stuck in there a little while ago. The next 36 hours are going to be crazy…I need calming things right now. (I say this after I have just consumed my third cup of coffee for the day. I hope that doesn’t defeat the purpose of the calming hymn) I cleaned off my desk last night. I don’t really feel funny today. It’s because I’m trying to get too much done. I’m finally getting over my sickness. I ended up having bronchitis. I’m not contagious and my voice is almost back. I really miss it. I still sound like I’ve smoked a pack a day since I was 10. Well, I have to get back to my life. Sorry this wasn’t funny. I hope it wasn’t too “rant-y” or depressing. At least I didn’t live blog cleaning my desk… You should be grateful. That is all.