Month: February 2012

The No Good, Very Bad, Terrible, Awful Night, That Turned Out Pretty Okay

~ riggledo ~ 2 Comments

Once I finally got out of the house yesterday, things went less than smoothly at first.  I started out in bad shape because the only thing I had to eat all day, up to then, was two pieces of toast with peanut butter and honey at about 11:30 in the morning.  I was pretty hungry by the time I left the house and my head was starting to hurt.  I sent Michelle a text to verify my suspicions, saying, “Would it be safe to assume that there won’t really be food for a while?”  Historically, I show up “on time” for these events and they’re still thinking about preparing to start getting ready to start making food.  It is what it is, and because I wasn’t feeling great I knew I had to take measures to accommodate that.  Michelle never answered my text but I took that as a yes.

I went to the Pet Store to get the cat food with little incident and I went from there to BevMo.  I know Monique, I know what she likes, and I knew that a “small” bottle of Patron tequila would make for a great gift.  The parking lot at the shopping center where the BevMo is located is way too small for the number and types of stores that are in it and people tend to be really selfish and rude there.  I was cut off several times just trying to get into the parking lot and into a space.

I left there and went around the corner to Target.  By that time, I was cranky and my head really hurt, so the first thing I did was go to the snack bar.  Only there were about 12 people in line and there was one employee behind the counter who was in no hurry to get anything done.  I walked away from the snack bar with a different plan.  I would buy a small Lunchable which would tide me over until I got to the party and food was ready.  I grabbed a cart and started rushing down the fist aisle of the store, but there were two individuals who were meandering along.  More than once they made like they were going to turn out from in front of me and as I’d move to go around them they would turn back out into the aisle.  Finally the guy pulled the girl aside and as I rushed past them, I heard him say in a disgruntled tone, “Let’s move so this guy can finally go around us.”  I sped on down the way, and around the corner to cut across the back aisle to the grocery department where I stopped to stock up on Diet Pepsi, both for home and for work (they had a good price on both, cans for home, bottles for work.)

Next I grabbed my Lunchable and headed over to Healthy & Beauty to get mouthwash and some pre-brush, whitening rinse (this stuff must work because every time I go to my dentist he asks me if I bleach my teeth.)  Then I headed over to the appliances for my “semi-significant (to me – and probably only to me) purchase.  I made up my mind that I was going to get a Keurig machine and I went to compare models and prices and determine which one to get.  No sooner did I stop in front of the machines than the two people from the first aisle came around the corner into the coffee maker aisle and the woman was loudly telling the man a story about a work conflict.  She was agitated just telling the story, and she used a number of curse words in the process of the telling.  They just stood in the aisle, about five feet from me as she told her friend her story, and she was so loud I couldn’t even think. So I just stood there, staring at the machines and waiting for them to get what they came for and leave.

Finally, she changed subjects and started talking about a coffee maker.  The guy said something about, “but it only makes one cup!”

She said, “Um, hello.  How many people live in my apartment?”

He said, “OK, so are you gonna get it?”

She answered, “No, I’m not gonna get it! I’m fucking broke!”

And then they walked away empty-handed, but as they did, I heard her say, “That dude is just standing there, staring at the coffee makers.”

Um, yeah!  ‘Cause I couldn’t hear myself think!!!

Finally, I decided which one I wanted and selected a box.  They have labels on the boxes saying when they were packed, which I assumed was relevant because they come with a sample pack of K-Cups so I wanted the freshest one.  I saw a box that said it was packed in January of 2012 so I grabbed that one.

The last thing I did before going to the check stand was look for a gift bag and tissue paper for Monique’s present and a card.

At last I made my way to the check stand.  My head was splitting, I was getting jittery and I was hungry.  Plus it was nearly 6:30 and while I knew the party wouldn’t be in full swing yet, it was supposed to have started at 5:30.  I had two gift cards in my wallet that I intended to use toward the coffee maker and the balance was going on my Target credit card (5% off with the card).  The other items I would purchase with my regular debit card.  The cashier rang up the coffee maker and it came up $15.00 more expensive than the tag on the shelf said.  He started to call for a price check and I glanced at the box again and realized I had put the wrong machine in my cart.  I wanted the one that makes three different size cups and I had the one that makes five different sizes.  I told him my mistake and asked if someone could go and get the right one.  They were maybe 30 feet away.  It shouldn’t have been a big issue.

The customer service manager came over and after telling her what I wanted she started calling into the radio for someone to bring up the right coffee maker, only she didn’t know what I was talking about, and whoever was on the other end of her radio didn’t know what I was talking about and I was getting flustered because I could feel that my blood sugar was getting low AND the cashier was doing a ridiculous job of bagging my items.  He rang up the birthday card and put it on the counter in front of me and then put the gift bag and tissue in a bag before lying the mouthwash and whitening rinse on top of them.  He wasn’t going to bag my six packs of bottles of Diet Pepsi until I asked him to do so,  but then he put the Lunchable into one of those bags while putting the two cold bottles of Diet Pepsi I bought, on the counter in front of me.  (I always show up at Michelle’s families house with my own beverages because I never know what they’re going to have.)

Finally, I told them to forget the coffee maker, there was just too much going on, and I proceeded to stand there and rebag my items as he was ringing them up.  After I paid for the stuff, I was heading away from the check-stand, very agitated over the experience and the Customer Service Manager, who was between there and the door, stopped me and she apologized for the confusion.  I pulled her aside and I said,”Actually I wanted to talk to you. I have to tell you, I’m a fan of Target.  I shop at Target all the time, and at a number of different stores depending on where I happen to be at the time.  This is the only store I’ve ever been to that consistently has a ridiculous line, in the snack bar, and one lone worker behind the counter taking their jolly sweet time.”  I then told her about the way the cashier was bagging my items and I told her, “I know he was disabled, I saw his crutch.  I’m not complaining that he didn’t move.  I’m not complaining that he was slow.  I get that, and it’s fine.  I’m complaining because he clearly doesn’t know how to bag stuff.  I was a cashier in high school and I was taught how to do this properly.”

She nodded her head and acknowledged what I was saying all along, and at that point she said, “I was too, and you’re right, he clearly needs some training.  I’ll talk to him.”

And it was at that point that I suddenly saw myself from the outside and realized what was happening.  I told her, “I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to be yelling at you,” (I wasn’t actually yelling) “I’m just running late, my blood sugar is low, which is why I bought the Lunchable in the first place.  I’m not normally like this, and I apologize.”  Then I said, “I actually do want the coffee maker.  Is it OK if I just leave my cart up here, I’ll go get the right one and just go through the express line?”

She said, “I understand.  I’ve had these crashes before, too.  Go sit down and eat your snack.  I’ll go get the coffee maker and bring it up to Guest Services for you.”

I must say that once I ate the Lunchable, I started to feel a little better, but what I really appreciated out of this exchange was, when I got to Guest Services to buy the coffee maker, she had told the cashier to give me 10% off.  I don’t particularly feel like I deserved the discount, but I was grateful none the less.

Finally, I got to Monique’s house for the party and the place was packed.  Music was blaring, people were shouting to be heard over the sound of the music and over the sound of other people shouting to be heard.  My head was still hurting a lot.  I was the grouch at the party.  I was torn.  I wanted to celebrate with my friends, but I also wanted to leave, but I also didn’t want to be the party-pooper who left.  Every where I stood, I was in someone’s way.  Finally, I sat on a stool and made up my mind not to move.  But then I took some Ibuprofen.  And then I ate some food.  And I had a drink.  And a friend stood there and talked to me.  And I started to feel better.

Not long after the cake was cut 2/3 of the people cleared out and it was just the core group.  I don’t know when it happened, but my headache was gone, my blood sugar had stabilized, my mood had improved…and I was having fun.

And then the most ordinary, amazing thing happened.  I had a lovely, involved, heart to heart conversation with one of the people there.  One of the extended family members, Amanda, who is eight years younger than I, (which means nothing now, but meant everything 14 years ago when I met her), has been in a relationship with her girlfriend for more than six years.   Amanda and I, talked about her relationship and her family and her experience of coming out to them.  We talked about their nebulous plans to go to New York, when the spirit moves them and the opportunity presents itself, so that they can get married.  We talked about the ludicrousness of the fact that same-sex marriage isn’t legal on a national level and the status of the Prop 8 case in the legal system.  And we talked about my family, and my experience and what things are like now.

And we connected, with no awkwardness, no discomfort, no nervousness, just open, honest, loving communication between two friends who really understood where the other was coming from.  And it was nice.

And I’m so glad I stayed.

Time Keeps on Slippin’, Slippin’, Slippin’

~ riggledo ~ 5 Comments

Today is not such a lazy Saturday around the ole Riggledo homestead.

I slept late, because I stayed up late (where have we heard that story before), because I stayed at work late, because I got there late, because….  Well, you get the idea.

Actually, I stayed later than I would have, because I had a couple of things I wanted to do and I had a huge chunk of my productivity time stolen away when IT came to my office to try to install my new printer, only to have the driver not work and the printer and computer not talk to each other (except for the printer to spit out 20-30 pages of error messages – six separate times) and not get resolved.  The IT guy has to try again on Monday, with the in-house Lexmark technician in tow.  (Karin, you’ll be glad to know the IT guy kept putting the papers back in the tray so he didn’t waste as much paper as he could have.) 😛

Anyway, I’ve been behind on my blog reader, spending more time on the writing than on the reading recently, so I was trying last night and this morning (afternoon) to trim that number down.  But I’ve also got four and half hours worth of TV shows on my DVR that need to be watched with another 90 minutes scheduled to be added tomorrow and those all need to be watched before bed tomorrow night, because on Monday, I finally have an appointment to have new TV service installed.  I’ve absolutely had it with AT&T U-verse and it’s finally going away.  If you’re one of the very few people who were around here long enough ago to remember my rant/diatribe about my previous attempt to replace U-verse with DirecTV and how I swore I’d never use DirecTV again…  Well, let’s just pretend that never happened and be happy for me that I’ll be having DirecTV installed in my house and all will be right with the world. (Hypocrite.)

It’s only 3:15 in the afternoon, so that probably doesn’t really sound all that stressful, but it is.  Here’s why:

Today is my friend and Michelle’s sister, Monique’s birthday (you might recall she’s the one that made this)  and there’s a party in two hours and fifteen minutes.  I have to buy cat food today and I have not yet bought her a birthday present or even a card.  I really wanted to got to Target today to make a semi-significant (to me – and probably only me) purchase.  Also, I have yet to take a shower or brush my teeth today.

Plus, tomorrow is my day to hang out with Lil’B.  Much of the day is taken up with that, not that I mind in the least.

AND, I need to clean (organize, dust, sweep around) my entertainment center, and my dresser, where the second TV is, not to mention clear a path to the dresser…

Crap!  I’ve got a lot to do.

Gotta go!

Write on Edge: Music

~ riggledo ~ 10 Comments

This weeks fiction prompt for the Red Writing Hood was Music.  Describing how a piece of music affects our character, in 400 words or fewer (The website says 400 words or less, but every time I read/type/write that, I hear my English major mother screaming “Fewer!  It should be fewer!!!” in my ear.)

I almost didn’t make it with this one, but here it is, anyway:

Kieran stepped from the cool comfort of his mid-sized rental sedan and beads of sweat moistened his brow faster than you could say Celtic festival.  He hated the heat and the sweat was an unwelcome reminder.  Today, though, he ignored the heat, to get a taste of home and revel in his forgotten youth.

As he crossed through the rutted field of dry, matted straw, he absently touched his chest; his rough hand detecting the soft cotton fabric, but his mind’s eye seeing the McFlarity family crest circled in Celtic knot work tattooed on his lily-white flesh beneath.  The closer he got to the festival gate, the louder the strains of stringed instruments became.

Passing through the festival booths and vendors, Kieran followed a direct trek straight to the center stage.  As he drew closer his heart swelled along with the music.  Memories of his youth in the hills of Ireland rushed into his thoughts, bringing a smile to his face as his feet tapped out a private jig, meant solely for his own enjoyment.

Kieran thought of the rolling hills on the edge of his village, Balbriggan.  How he used to run on those hills with his brothers.  And the water front at the edge of the Irish Sea as he watched his father and the men, boarding the fishing boats each day.  Pa had always come home smelling of salt air and salmon, but his mother never seemed to mind; always happy just to have her husband safe and sound back at the family homestead.

As the music grew louder and the cymbals clanged together, Kieran flinched as his memories took a turn.  When the war had finally come to Balbriggan there was barely time for planning.  His parents would take the family away, to find a place of safety in the home of American cousins already living in New York City.

When suddenly the music softened, tears welled up in Kieran’s eyes as images of his last moments in Balbriggan flashed through his mind.  His father, shot in the back, branded a traitor.  His brothers dragged away by the soldiers and made to fight a war they could not understand, only to die pointlessly on the battlefield.  And his poor, sainted mother, savagely  beaten as she held the men at bay long enough for the fishing boat to set sail and carry Kieran away.

Roomba Revisited

~ riggledo ~ 7 Comments

You’ll recall that about a month ago, I bought a Roomba and I have been thrilled with that purchase every day since!  The docking station where it charges is right by my front door, partly because that was the only free outlet I could find that wasnt’ blocked by furniture and partly because I want it there so I can (and will remember to) hit the button and start it up as I leave for work every morning.  This means, of course, that it’s also the first thing I see when I come home at night.  During these short Standard Time days, it is already dark by the time I get home from work and I do not leave any lights on while I’m out, so when I open the door, the bright green glow of the charging/charged light glows up at me.  On Monday, I came home, opened the door and looked down into darkness.

“Uh oh,” I said to Mischa.  “Where’s Roomba?”  You’ll be glad to know, I was not expecting, nor did I receive an answer.  I went searching for Roomba, looking under chairs, peeking into the kitchen.  My bedroom door is kept closed so I knew she wouldn’t be in there.  And then I found her, peeking out from under the bathroom vanity, just sitting there.  (Don’t ask me why Roomba is a she…  She just is.)

I have double-sided bathroom rugs.  My family learned a long time ago, that cats seem to be attracted to the rubber non-skid surfaces of bathroom rugs for the purposes of peeing.  We learned this not from my problem child who is notorious for peeing in inappropriate places, but from my mother’s perfect little angel of a cat who never did anything wrong, ever, except for repeatedly peeing on rubberized bathroom rugs.  Once my mother bought the first double-sided rug, the peeing stopped.  Naturally, when I was out on my own, with my problem chid who is notorious for peeing in inappropriate places to think about, I went in search of double-sided rugs for my own bathroom.

The thing is, when you mix a robot vacuum cleaner with rugs that don’t hold their position and you throw in a marble tile floor to boot, you get a recipe for trouble.  I never know what I’m going to find when I come into my bathroom in the evenings.  Some days Roomba goes right over those rugs like it’s nothing, other days, Roomba pushes those rugs, inevitably folding them over.  I happened to be in the bathroom one Saturday morning while Roomba was doing her thing and I watched as she went over the first rug and under the vanity, but when she came back around and started making her way for the door again, she pushed the rug in front of her, until it folded over and became an obstacle that Roomba’s sensors are programmed to avoid.  Suddenly, Roomba was stuck in a four-foot square room frantically crossing between wall, bath tub, toilet, trash can and folded rug with nowhere to go, until finally I rescued her and sent her on her way.

When I came home on Monday, I found a similar scene with the rug folded over on itself and Roomba hiding under the vanity, her batteries completely drained of power.  I had to coax her back to her charging station to prepare for the next day.

I’ve had my Roomba for more than a month now.  I’m just as thrilled today as I was on the first day with this product and the developments it has brought into my life.  I never thought I’d have consistently clean floors again until I moved out of my current home.  This stuck-on-the-rug show is a rare occurence and nothing to diminish my satisfaction with the product.

So you can imagine, when I came home again on Tuesday, looked down into the black void that should have been my Roomba, peacefully sleeping and awaiting her marching orders.

“Again?” I said to Mischa, still not expecting an answer.  I went searching again.  checked under furniture, peaked through the kitchen, glanced toward the bathr–  I started laughing.

The bathroom door was closed, but I don’t close the bathroom door unless there’s someone else in my house.  I walked to the door and pushed it open slowly.  Sure enough, Roomba was sitting in the middle of the floor, completely drained of power, with one rug pushed up into a pile by the bath tub, another rug shoved into a corner behind the toilet and my trash can, the trash can which normally stands in the way of Roomba getting behind the door, in the opposite corner of the room.  I told you Roomba was assertive!

Roomba had trapped herself inside the bathroom and run around in circles (well, circles, random straight lines, whatever she does) until she ran completely out of juice and gave up.

I’ll pick those rugs up as soon as I can, but as I said, I have marble floors and the average temperature in my house this time of year, particularly in the mornings is 60 degrees.  Those rugs stay down as long as the temperature does.

I wonder where I’ll find my Roomba tonight…

Wednesday Bonus: Friendship

~ riggledo ~ 8 Comments

In addition to the weekly fiction writing prompts on Write on Edge, there is also a weekly non-fiction or memoir writing prompt called “Remembe(red)”  (Write on Edge used to be known by a different name…”The Red Dress Club” I think it was.)

This weeks Remembe(red) prompt as about friendship.  Four hundred words exploring a friendship, past or present.

Enjoy:

 

When you walked into my life, I never thought we’d become what we have.  Me with my judgmental, depressed, unforgiving attitude.  You with your insightful wisdom and huge, open heart.  We were never meant to be friends.  How could it even work, two souls, so different from each other?

You saw things in me that I didn’t even know were there.  You coaxed them out of me, gently, cautiously.  You had all the time in the world.  You helped me to see things clearly.  Helped me to open my own heart – more importantly, my own mind – to the world around me and the possibilities that surrounded me.  You helped me to become a better person.  And the best part is you never even tried.  You did all this simply by being there, simply by loving me for whom and what I was…even when I couldn’t love myself.

I don’t know if you even realize how much you affected my life…how much you affected me.  In so many ways, I would not be the man I am now, if it hadn’t been for you.

You moved away and it broke my heart.  The emptiness I felt at your absence was too much for me to bear and when you came back the world was right again.  So naturally, I moved away and when I did, I knew I’d never see you again and it broke my heart all over again.  I knew it was something I had to do, though, for me.  I knew I’d never have you all to myself and I couldn’t hold myself back hoping that would change.

Fate brought us together again and for one beautiful day, each year it was like we had never been separated.  I cherished those days; counted the minutes until we would be together again.  Until Fate intervened again, putting an end to those days and now I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.

I think of you often, and not just because of Facebook or Words with Friends.  I know you think of me often, too.  You are my dearest friend and I cherish our relationship, knowing that no matter what, no matter when I see you again, it will be as if no time has passed at all.  Thank you for that.