“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 588 (Monday)

The morning seemed to set the day up failure. It was cold and dreary and perfect for sleeping, but it was a work day, so there would be no lounging about. It was trash day, but the trash bag was barely half-full, and the idea of going out in the rain to set it in the empty bin and then drag the big bin with a half-empty trash bag through the rain to the curb wasn’t appealing. Trash day was skipped. I felt decisive and powerful.

The rainy weather required wardrobe planning. What pants won’t get all wet on the hems? What pants actually fit today? What shoes won’t be ruined in the rain and puddles? The winning pants ended up being the emergency fat pants because they were the only ones that fit. This felt less powerful and more depressing. There ended up being two pairs of shoes for the day, one to walk from the garage and the new  navy patent loafers to wear in the office. This is how a person ends up having 12 pairs of shoes at work.

The drive to work was unpleasant. The traffic on Lakeview was piled up and accumulating. I was about the seventh car in line at the light at Aiken. From my spot near the hardware store, I could see the cross traffic moving on Aiken while my line sat without moving for two complete green light cycles.

The backup provided plenty of time for me to contemplate some of the life decisions that led me to that moment in time, sitting in that spot in traffic, with the waistband of my fat pants digging into my belly, time ticking away. Turning right instead of left to avoid the University pedestrian traffic. Getting rid of the CRV and getting the Jeep with no CD player, leaving me stuck hearing commercials. Overeating for months. Probably should have backed off with that before creeping up another size.

The traffic finally moved and to avoid turning right into the backup on the Aiken bridge, I went straight. Once through the intersection, it was a clear path. For about two minutes, things were carefree and easy, all the way until the next bridge. Ugh.  Then it was the joy of the Bridge Street bridge traffic.

This gave me time to ponder the heavier stuff. Like moving back from Tennessee. And maybe I should have just stayed in the crappy marriage and tried harder at the housewife thing. Sure, I was horrible at it because I didn’t have the first clue about how to do it, and sure, life sucked, but at least I didn’t have to work. And what’s life suckage anyway? It’s just a matter of time, flavors, and degrees. But at least it's usually temporary. And a life full of nothing but puffy clouds, unicorns, and rainbows would probably be boring anyway.

Scene from a beautiful day.

After work, the traffic was much less annoying that the ride in. Things were improving exponentially. And when I saw the mail, things got dramatically better. There was a box wrapped in brown paper, safe and dry inside the enclosed front porch. It was a painting of a scene from a beautiful day, sent by my beautiful painter friend. And everything felt better. Hooray for happy memories and thoughtful surprises from talented friends. Life isn't all traffic jams and clouds. Not forever, anyway. It's also beautifully painted summer garden scenes.