When I arrived at my job today, a gas burner on the kitchen stove was turned on, and no one was home except for the two cats. My client/friend who lives in this house had a fire a few years back. Although that fire started downstairs in the garage and not in the kitchen, being of the "neurotic worrier" type, I made a mental note to mention the burner to him. Then I began to trace the morning back to my kitchen, where I groggily putter around while gulping vast amounts of coffee in effort to join the world of the living. Had I turned off the coffee pot? Would my house burn down? As I started to work, I drifted into my usual free-association-meditation cleaning style. Note to self: go to Costco to re-up stash of personal favorite drug, coffee! Must go tonight!!!
Mornings are hell for me, since I'm a natural night owl. Yes, I get up, but it's never easy, and never has been since childhood. Hence the coffee addiction. Every once in awhile, I become acutely aware that it is, in fact, an addiction. This usually occurs in the rare event that I don't get to the store in time to replenish my "supply" and the day comes I must face morning without my "little helper." That happened last week...
I was too tired after work to go to the store Friday night, even though I knew what I would be facing in the morning. "I can handle it," I told myself casually (I can quit anytime I want to!) The next morning I was up at the crack of dawn. The dog wanted breakfast! John was snoring away! I certainly can't go back to sleep now! I'll just take the mutt out and then run over to Safeway before anyone else gets there! I was bursting with energy, revved up to make my a.m. caffeine run. Ah, what a beautiful morning. So peaceful.
As I waited on LulaBelle to do her business, I saw a couple staggering towards the stairway that leads to the beach, obviously on an all-night bender. They stopped behind a bush when they saw me, checking me out. Was I apartment security? Should they be paranoid? The guy hurried towards the staircase. I imagined him anxious to hit the pipe and bottle in his pocket. The girl hesitated, uncertain whether she should follow him down that long staircase to the cold, windy beach. Did she even know him? She looked bedraggled.
Suddenly my sunny mood dampened, as I recalled similar experiences from my own past. What depressing and dangerous scenarios I put myself in, with complete strangers, on a near-nightly basis on the beaches, in the parks, seedy hotels and streets of the city. How many mornings- after did I face the dawn, ashamed to be seen by "normal" people, wondering desperately, how do they do it? How do they manage to be normal? What have I been chasing all night, every night, and why can't I stop?
Suddenly I felt like I was reliving the past. My head pounded. I was exhausted. I felt that old, familiar, sick and hungover feeling. The dog is taking her damn time this morning! "Just go poo NOW! " I demanded. The more agitated I got, the more nervous she became, jumping at a bag blowing in the wind, barking at the birds! Though I'd been energetic moments before, I was rapidly slumping. Finally I dragged her back home. She'll just have to poo later.
I quickly headed for the grocery store. I didn't know how much longer I would be upright...things were getting hazy. Like a zombie I stumbled through the automatic door. The place looked like a war zone as numerous clerks restocked shelves, boxes scattered in the aisles. In my daze I tripped over a box. I wanted to shout, Why didn't you idiots finish this job before you opened the doors to customers? Aren't you worried about law suits? Of course, the only clerk at the checkstand was the slowest checker on the planet. Yak yakkety yak yak yak," she blabbed non-stop, as she flirted with the blushing customer in front of me. AARGH! On an average evening this clerk gets on my last nerve. But on a fuzzy morning without coffee... Suzie Sunshine was not nearly as sunny to me as she'd been to the guy in front of me, thank God. She obviously sensed the danger signals as I bared my fangs and pulled out my wallet...
Addiction is hell.
All this I contemplated as I worked. Probably my client forgot to turn off the burner this morning after heating water for his coffee, I thought as I dried his clean dishes and favorite coffee mug; a near-disaster brought on by caffeine withdrawal! As I reached for a plate on the dish drainer, the stack collapsed like dominoes. Two oven-and-microwave-safe plates on the bottom of the stack were broken neatly in half. How strange! I don't think I'd even touched them!
When I told Chris about his plates, he said "It must your kinetic energy; you don't even know your own strength."
I rarely ever break things at my jobs, but when I do, it usually happens in cycles. Thank God this is a short week, I thought to myself. I'll have to be extra careful tomorrow...
As I was driving home, contemplating Chris' remark about the "energy" and what it could possibly mean, I suddenly remembered that I'd forgotten to tell him about the burner. So I picked up my cell phone to give him a call. "Have you noticed a ghost at your house?" I asked him, "...because I'm almost positive I didn't touch those plates. And what about the burner?" (What I refrained from saying was, "and what about that fire awhile back?") He laughed. "Yeah, it must have been a ghost."
As I hung up, I felt like an idiot. It's embarrassing when you realize that many think you're a little "dingy" for even considering this ghost thing. I glanced at the digital clock on my dashboard.
Guess what time it was????
1:11.
8 comments:
I'm going to do a test before I try to send a real comment. I don't quite trust blogger anymore.
People don't necessarily think you're dingy. I am jealous because I don't have the ability to pick up on anything supernatural; my skepticism gets in my way.
It really was 1:11. Does that ever happen to you?
Well actually it does happen to me. I refrained from mentioning it though for two reasons. The first reason is not to incriminate myself, and the second reason is due to your sober status.
I often look at my watch and it is 4:20p. I'm not pulling your leg. That has happened about six or seven times -- more than a mere coincidence. It always happens when I have nothing to smoke (most of the time.) Maybe like the Dr. Pepper it's a sign that I'm better off that way.
Then again how many times have I looked at my watch and it was 2:26p, but never made note of it because the time didn't mean anything to me?
See that's my inner skeptic.
What does 4:20 mean to you?
Oh, I just looked up 4:20. I guess I'm not too hip!! That's pretty damn odd I would say. And funny too.
I swear when I look at my watch it is 4:20 precisely -- not 4:19 or any other close time. Of course it could be my internal clock because Ibs gets home from work at about 4:20.
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