I'm not going to lie. I didn't take a picture today. I just didn't. So, here's a picture of Snark in a furious battle with my staplebiter. I took it yesterday. I might as well have taken it today though. All my days at work are alarmingly similar. I could've taken a picture of what I'm doing tonight, but it just would've been a picture of my laying in bed watching a Netflick on my computer. Yes, I have a large TV with DVD player and yet I can't see it from my bed so I make due with the smallscreen. Rehearsal was called off tonight on account of us accomplishing all we intended to accomplish Mon - Thurs. So, I'm intentionally doing nothing. It was a nothing kind of night.
I seem to be on the verge of tears today. Not for any good reason, I think it must just be stress and tiredness, etc. I went to Subway for lunch today. I was in line behind an elderly gentleman. When it was his turn he asked the Subway man if he had meatball subs. The Subway man did have meatball subs. There were so many more choices for the elderly man to make though. What kind of bread? What kind of cheese? Toasted? Do you want vegetables? Do you want condiments? He couldn't quite hear all of his options clearly. His hearing aids weren't being much help but he just watched the Subway guy's lips and peered at the toppings with his hands pressed to the glass. Finally, he had his two 6" meatball subs (on Italian bread, Provolone cheese, untoasted with no vegetables or condiments) and he thanked the cashier and walked out the door. I walked out shortly after with my tuna sub and watched him crossing the parking lot to his car.
For some reason, watching this whole interaction left me with an inordinate number of emotions & thoughts running through my brain. He was adorable really, in that way that old people are; that way that would perhaps be taken as condescending but that's really not how I mean it. He wanted meatball subs and so he ventured to Subway to get one for him and one for... who? His wife is the first thought, but maybe his friend or his dog or maybe they were both for him - one for today, one for tomorrow. At the same time it awoke that stupid terrified little part of my brain that fears getting older. I pictured myself in 50 years stooped and wrinkled with my hands pressed to the glass examining the pickles, lettuce & tomatoes. These thoughts of old Mary always lead to the same central train of thought of "Oh my god, what if this is all there is? What if 50 years from now I haven't done anything more than this?" Then the feelings of panic start to rise in my throat and I have to have the common sense part of my brain give me a stern talking to about how I'm still young yet and a lot can happen in 50 years. It tells me to assert myself and stop being so complacent.
There's a weird noise coming from my kitchen. It's irritating. I suppose it's good though as now it stops me from waxing lyrical on ridiculous fears of aging. Truthfully, I hope I'm like that man in going to places I'm not entirely familiar with even when I'm old and can't hear properly. I hope I'm like Grandma Lee, who turns 94, this year and yet is still taking care of herself and driving her own car. Or like Grandpa, who had open heart surgery last year, but still went up north to the cabin as soon as he could. I'm trying to think of a specific Grandma Marilin inspiration, but I think it's best if I stop. I've rambled on far too long and there is something creepy going on in my kitchen. I'm going to investigate.
I seem to be on the verge of tears today. Not for any good reason, I think it must just be stress and tiredness, etc. I went to Subway for lunch today. I was in line behind an elderly gentleman. When it was his turn he asked the Subway man if he had meatball subs. The Subway man did have meatball subs. There were so many more choices for the elderly man to make though. What kind of bread? What kind of cheese? Toasted? Do you want vegetables? Do you want condiments? He couldn't quite hear all of his options clearly. His hearing aids weren't being much help but he just watched the Subway guy's lips and peered at the toppings with his hands pressed to the glass. Finally, he had his two 6" meatball subs (on Italian bread, Provolone cheese, untoasted with no vegetables or condiments) and he thanked the cashier and walked out the door. I walked out shortly after with my tuna sub and watched him crossing the parking lot to his car.
For some reason, watching this whole interaction left me with an inordinate number of emotions & thoughts running through my brain. He was adorable really, in that way that old people are; that way that would perhaps be taken as condescending but that's really not how I mean it. He wanted meatball subs and so he ventured to Subway to get one for him and one for... who? His wife is the first thought, but maybe his friend or his dog or maybe they were both for him - one for today, one for tomorrow. At the same time it awoke that stupid terrified little part of my brain that fears getting older. I pictured myself in 50 years stooped and wrinkled with my hands pressed to the glass examining the pickles, lettuce & tomatoes. These thoughts of old Mary always lead to the same central train of thought of "Oh my god, what if this is all there is? What if 50 years from now I haven't done anything more than this?" Then the feelings of panic start to rise in my throat and I have to have the common sense part of my brain give me a stern talking to about how I'm still young yet and a lot can happen in 50 years. It tells me to assert myself and stop being so complacent.
There's a weird noise coming from my kitchen. It's irritating. I suppose it's good though as now it stops me from waxing lyrical on ridiculous fears of aging. Truthfully, I hope I'm like that man in going to places I'm not entirely familiar with even when I'm old and can't hear properly. I hope I'm like Grandma Lee, who turns 94, this year and yet is still taking care of herself and driving her own car. Or like Grandpa, who had open heart surgery last year, but still went up north to the cabin as soon as he could. I'm trying to think of a specific Grandma Marilin inspiration, but I think it's best if I stop. I've rambled on far too long and there is something creepy going on in my kitchen. I'm going to investigate.
No comments:
Post a Comment