When my mother hears of something someone is planning to spend good money or time or effort on that she thinks is utterly absurd, she has a tendency to say, “I wouldn’t go across the STREET to…” fill in the blank with said absurdity. Examples that come to mind include: go see Lady Gaga, go see any event occurring in the general downtown area, or basically go anywhere to eat that isn’t her own dining room.
Lately, due to circumstances beyond my control, I’ve not been much of a party girl. I haven’t attended many events. I am usually asleep in bed by the time most people are out at swanky places doing swanky things. My mother’s phrase keeps coming into my mind. I might have said it myself when offered the opportunity to say…attend a party. Or, say, attend a party in another state that requires an airplane to get to. Or attend any function that requires me to leave my home after dark in an appropriately festive get up.
I might have said, “I wouldn’t go across the STREET to attend a party right now let alone attend a party in another state.” And yet. Off I go tomorrow to do just that!
What could possibly wrong?
I will visit our corporate office. I’ll make the rounds and try to limit how much I have to walk around the campus that is composed of three different buildings. Three. Different. Buildings. Connected by courtyards and walkways. So many potential surfaces to faceplant on! The mind reels considering the possibilities.
It took me a few days of angsting over what the hell to wear and how to make flat shoes make me feel…Not stumpy. Or what I can wear that requires less than zero thought or effort but still looks fun! And cool! And hip! Jesus.
I just finished packing a small suitcase with an entirely black wardrobe. I just need fewer things to think about over the next three days beyond what clothes to wear. I’ll be focusing on not collapsing or falling on my face. I’ll be trying to figure out how to cover an old lady face full of zits with festive holiday makeup. I’ll be thinking about whether or not there will be a chair handy when my body decides it’s had enough even though my face will be pretending with all of its strength to look as if I feel A-ok.
I’ll be trying to figure out what to say when people ask the dreaded question: “How are you?” I can almost guarantee that they really don’t want to know, even though they will think they really do.
All of this is a shitty way to feel for a girl who works for a company that is generous and thoughtful enough to include her entire team in a festive holiday office event. Honestly. That’s a goddamn amazing thing to do. My mother? She said, “Well, that’s a big deal. I mean, that’s really really nice.”
She didn’t say she wouldn’t go across the street to attend a fancy holiday party. Even she thought it sounded like fun.
I’m really going to try and pretend that I feel good. I’m going to try to hang and not let my body fail me. I’m going to pray for no freaky double vision or Provigil-mixed-with-alcohol mishaps (I probably can’t drink. Those are my options. Take the energy drug OR drink but not both.) So, looks like I’ll be doing all of this pretending stone cold sober.
Wish me luck. Who wants to take bets on how long it takes me to recover from this? Well. Let’s hope it’s before I have to board another plane to head to Charlotte for a meeting next Thursday.
Do you ever feel like the universe is trying to teach you a lesson the hard way? Right. Me either.