I’d managed to dodge all the 4:30 a.m. invitations run in the newspapers and commercials by the various local stores, promising me either a free or heavily discounted something or other, if only I show up, wallet in hand, before everything in the store runs out. Still shaking off a Tryptophan hang over, I was in no mood to toy with ”Black Friday” - the hallowed shopping day after Thanksgiving. Instead, I sent my wife out into the swarm of bargain shoppers and loaded parking lots by herself. Her little sister did go with her, though, which made up for the bad feelings I had had for staying home.
Out the door, her only instructions to me were this: I needed to be showered and fed by the time she returned at 2p.m., and, oh yeah, don’t forget the batch of clothes that need to be folded in the dryer. On this note, I nodded, yes, yes, absolutely, yes. I had my whole day planned out in my mind, which included mainly doing whatever I pleased with the utmost productivity. I gave her a quick peck on the lips and before her car even left the driveway, I had a jumbo sized pot of coffee going. It was a boiling cauldron of energy - Starbucks Latin American Super Blend, equivalent to a mule kick to the chops. I gladly wake up with it every morning. And the rumors kicking around about it having been known to kill moderate-sized animals is exactly that - just rumors. The main thing is that the rich coffee blend boosts my productivity at least 110%, and I had a ton of unimportant things to tend to.
But something in this batch was lacking - no - draining. It made my brain heavy and my thoughts groggy. Briefly, I questioned Hugo Chavez’s hand in all of this. After launching out a few badly composed emails, trying to make sense of a book I’m reading, and thinking hard about raking the leaves still covering our yard, it was almost noon and I had nothing to show for it. My pajamas pants were still on and practically becoming a second skin, and the effects of not showering began taking its toll.
But first, I needed to take care of my stomach. I found a can of condensed bean and bacon soup hidden in the shadowy back of the kitchen cupboard. I hoped this might snap me out of the never ending brain-fog. I pealed back the lid, turned the can over and emptied the skin-colored contents into the pot on the stove. Except it wasn’t that easy. The soup stayed put, clinging to the tin can walls with all its stubborn might. After a series of unsuccessful shakes and taps, I got a spoon to help speed things along. I stabbed the heaving mass to loosen it up, and eventually it worked, but not without first unleashing the kind of grotesque slurping sounds only a soft, fat, furless, pink, thirsty animal could emit.
When the clumps of bacon/beans finally dropped into the pot, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t hungry. But, so much work went into it. As stated in the directions, a soup can of water followed and was stirred in with the same poor spoon I’d used earlier. After all the hard work, an overflowing bowl of it joined me at the table. Upon closer inspection of the thick, misty soup, it made me think that this looks identical to how my brain has felt all day.
By the time Jess got home, I was spent - showered, fed and the clothes were folded, but spent. I’d somehow managed to complete my assigned jobs fifteen minutes before Jess came through the door (which, now that I’m thinking about it, makes me wonder if I ever used soap in the shower). She lined up her shopping bags of good buys along the living room wall and asked, “What have you been doing all day?”
I kind of smiled, slightly embarrassed. I couldn’t think of one thing I did. I sort of wanted to have my day back to do all over again. But if forced to list at least one accomplishment to show for the day, I’d go with I learned some lessons about myself. One, being grossly unproductive can be quite tiring. And, two, with Twighlight Zone strangeness, I get more things done with less time to do them in than if I have all the time in the world.
Categories: Food, Life, Shopping
3 Comments »
