And My Day Begins

12 March 2014


I'm breaking my no-writing rule of March to deliver a mid-month message:  I'M ALIVE!  (See here)  And I am doing so well!  Focused and driven - goals are coming along exceptionally well!  And I'm thriving in some grand popularity.  I'm having so many experiences I can't wait to write about.  Life is beautiful.  I hope your month is also going well.  I'll write again in April.  Here is a story to keep you hanging:  

This morning I had to peel my body out of bed.  My neck is sore from dancing so much.  My legs are tired from running even more.  And my brain is so swollen with studies and pursuits that I think my head is rupturing open.

But my days are too exciting to keep me down!  Up I go, and out the door.

I approach my car to head off to work, but all of Will's windows are iced over.  The kind of ice that doesn't scrape away with only arm strength.  No, you gotta climb on top of your car and use your entire body weight to hatch away.  But I was too tired to do that  (see above).  So I did what I always do: turn on my car, set defrost to high, and resort to the The Roll-Down Method, as I call it.  Roll down all the windows, listen to the ice crack off, and roll them up and down a few more times for good measure.  Once the front and back windows defrost, I'm on my way!  And as always, once I get going on the main roads, and my arms are turning purple, I roll the windows back up.  And if visibility is still opaque, then I roll them back down when I need to make turns and such....  It's a short drive to work, okay?  Hey, at least I make three-day hair blowing in the chilly air look sexy.

So I'm on my way to work, cruising down the fast lane, when I try to roll the windows back up.  Except none of them do, save the driver's window.  I push the buttons harder, because for some reason the human mind thinks slamming broken things makes them work again.  No.  Well my arms are getting colder, and I think my eyelashes are frozen to my glasses because my eyelids can't move - though, in this situation, I think it's better to call them EyeBlankets.  And heaven forbid I wear a coat when everything outside is covered in ICE!

So I reach back to the door behind me and start play with that window button.  No avail.  I reach over to play with the button on the front passenger side - any button I can reach while driving 50 miles an hour.  Nothing.  Well crap!  How many times have I used the Roll-Down Method and had no problems?  I broke my freaking windows after 2.5 months of owning Will!  And I can't just leave ALL my windows rolled down for the rest of forever!  The people who shop at my grocery store look like the exact type of people who would steal a snowboard from someone's backseat.  I probably froze the windows to the inside of my car!  Would pliers be useful in this situation?  Maybe a blow dryer?  Or should I just go ahead and drive my car straight to my mechanic?  Or maybe to the shop at work and have my buddies look at it?  But what would I say, because, "I froze my windows to the inside of my car" just seems a little.... dumb.  SO THEN WHAT DO I DO??

And I proceed to brainstorm the entire drive to work, while my entire body is turned to a glacial mummy, and my eyes are so dry and frozen petrified.  And then I look down and see a button on my door panel.  It has a window with a cross through it.


I push it and the windows roll up as smooth as ever.  #newcarproblems.  Well, I'm really glad I didn't take my car to anyone for inspection.  I can't think of a dumber car vs. girl problem.

So I arrive at work, and grab my bags to head in to the receptionist area and get the keys for a motor pool car that will take me to Job #2 in Salt Lake.  I approach the woman at the front desk and she tells me that one of the studio men has already turned on the car for me to get it warmed up for my drive.  "Oh, how nice of him!"  I say, right as my heavy purse slips off my shoulder and falls to my elbow, taking my hair that was pinched under the strap with it.  "MY HAIR!!  OH MY GOSH, MY HAIR IS BEING RIPPED OUT OF MY HEAD!"  I shriek, as my arms flail around to adjust the anvil purse and cement block laptop bag.  I get my hair free, and I turn my head upright again.  Then I take the keys from the woman's outstretched hand, noting her wide eyes and open mouth.  "Thank you,"  I say quietly, "Wednesday, you know?"  And she laughs.  And I laugh.  And it's just weird.

I head out with no more frozen-car-window problems, stop to quickly say hi to my former voice teacher, and continue to cruise up the freeway, formulating mental to-do lists so I can maximize productivity.  But then I feel the drowsiness kicking in.  I told God in my morning prayer that I am going to need His assistance today, particularly in the area of energy production.  Especially as I pass the Adobe building, where my buddy David is going to take me on a tour after work today! 

And then I remember that V8 Fusion Energy drink shoved in the bottom of my purse.  I bought it at that grocery store full of the people-I-don't-trust-with-my-broken-car-windows.  I thought these drinks would be excellent supplements to my heavy training program.  But ALSO, today seems like the perfect day to dope up on caffeine....

Except... I'm an easily impressionable person, which is a statement that says a lot about me in few words.  I am easily happy, and easily inspired, and easily enthused, and.... easily energized, not ever needing extra doses to heighten my natural state.  Because here's what happens: 

I remember when I was first introduced to caffeine.  (It's a bit of a sketchy story).  I was 16 and his name was Ian Fogg.  He wore a long black trenchcoat and more black clothes underneath.  His fingers were covered in skull rings, and he drove an army jeep that was also covered in skulls, and filled with knives, and always played scary screaming music.  But we were buddies.  Because even though he had an extremely hard exterior, he had a really kind and loving heart.  We met at my first official W-2 producing job - Dairy Queen.  And Ian was very keen on protecting me, evident by him spitting in a boy's hamburger who broke my miniscule 15 year-old heart.

Well, those sorts of vampire-trenchcoat people never sleep, as Ian was completely dependent on caffeine to open his EyeBlankets each morning.  When he'd come in for his shifts at work, he'd unload his skull bag in the walk-in refrigerator, lining all his energy drinks up on the shelf.  And if he'd run out of those, he'd straight up drink the Mountain Dew syrup from the boxes in the back.  And if anyone even breathed in the direction of his drinks, Ian would rap his skull knuckles at them. 

Except for me.

If I was ever getting tired on my shift, Ian would always tell me to go into the back refrigerator and drink his Rock Star or Monster or Morphing Juice, whatever they're called.  So I'd gladly prance back there and take some sips because "they taste like SMARTIES!!!"  And he was happy to allow me to because "you get really hilarious and fun after you drink it." 


I was a HOOT!  I made people laugh so hard that girls would pee their pants and boys would snort and everyone would be holding their laughing stomachs.  I was voted everyone's #1 favorite person to work with at that little Idaho Dairy Queen.  People would CHEER if they found out I was on their shift, and they'd attempt to rearrange their schedules if I wasn't.

So do energy drinks affect me?  Yes.... Just a bit. 

Well, despite how fun I am when I'm wired, I just never really bought in to the caffeine train, save a few gulps before dance parties in college.  Well... now driving to work with such a weary, cold body, I figure today was a good day to join the rest of the working American commuter clan.  I'm assuming they are all buzzed on coffee and soda, so I should just join in, RIGHT? 

So I chug my V8 Fusion Energy.  It's like... healthy caffeine!

I arrive at work and drive to the very bottom level of our underground parking garage.  After I'm loaded with my mammoth bags, one on either shoulder to balance the weight, I am standing dead center between the elevators on the right.  And the stairs on the left. 

I proceed left.


So I climb 5 floors up to the top of the parking garage.  And then I head into my office building where I usually enter another elevator, stuffed with other drone working faces, and ride up to floor 21.

Instead, I ask the Sir at the front desk where the stairs are because "I'd like to walk today."  "ATTA GIRL!" as he points to the door. I open the door and look up.... all the way up.....  Onward I go, setting my pace to be pretty quick.  Because that's what you do when you're late.  Or you just ride the elevator.

By floor 8, I'm breathing noticeably heavier.  By 11, I'm panting.  By 14, my legs are burning.  But I haven't slowed down even a tiny bit.  I re-adjust the heavy weight of my bags, wondering if I really needed to shove a food storage for a small family in my purse.  I pass a woman in the stairwell, and I start giggling because it's uncomfortable to be breathing so heavily in such a confined space with someone else.  And also, my giggling suppressants work even less when I'm so tired.

By 17, perspiration is secreting all over my body.  Never break the pace.  That's always my rule.  18... Going Strong.  19... Heaving.... 20....  FIRE LEGS...  21.  Done.  I break through the door of my floor and have a bent-over-wheezing party.  Fun little party.  A couple co-workers pass by, "you climbed all the way up here?"  But of course since I'm focusing so hard on breathing, I can't answer.

Then I hobble down the hallway towards the front desk.  The girls tell me to sit down on the couch for a second because they could hear me panting all the way up the hall.  Sweat is dripping off me onto the couch.  So professional.  They give me tissues to clean up.  I attempt to dry off my face and neck, but my body just keeps sweating as it pleases.  So I shove the tissues down my shirt because that's where a woman is most affected. Then I head off to my desk.

I drop by bags and plop down in my office chair.  Purple freeze-burned skin.  Fossilized eyeballs.  A patchy bald head.  Caffeine drenched veins.  Wobbly legs and rashed arms.  Wet little black dress.  And a stuffed bra.

And so my Wednesday begins.

I'm a champion.  Still feeling the rush.

Upward and onward,

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  1. OH my gosh! I laughed so hard reading this!!!! So happy to have an update :) I've missed you. :)

  2. hahahaha I love this so so much! Oh Wednesdays...