So the time saving initiative has taken a dark turn. See this other post for advice that might work if you are looking for successful time saving tips. The current post has only warnings. Things seem to have
gotten to, as physicists would say - critical mass. The other day, I was faced
with a dilemma: what to do with the hair on my head. It was dirty but also in a
significant amount of knots. As if tiny Christmas elves were bored (being that
it is not yet time for Christmas busyness) and spent the night singing Christmas carols and tying individual
strands of my hair into knots. I first considered wearing a hat - my go-to
solution when my hair has become personified anger. But when I put on my
favorite hat, I looked not only sickly pale but childish and angry so that I
was a taller version of the scary twins in A
Christmas Carol - Ignorance and Want. You know, the ones that hide in The
Happy Ghost’s robe so that he is no longer happy but weird for keeping scary
children in his robe. So I discarded the hat but the time I had wasted
contemplating why I looked like a character from a Charles Dickens’ story meant
I had less time to wash it. Plus I didn’t want to waste time washing it
because I had to go to the gym later, and it seemed like a waste of my
ever disappearing minutes to wash my hair and then have it dripping with sweat
in just under 8 hours. So in order to save time, I tried to wash my hair without getting it too wet. I rubbed a bit of hand soap (yes shampoo makes more
sense but I was rushing) on my fingers and lathered up the dirtiest parts. Then I
stood at the sink trying to use my fingers to get the soap out. It did not
work. In the five minutes this took (which is about how long it takes for me to
wash my hair), I looked like I had decided that my hair might fall out, so I had
better glue it to my scalp. I wore a hat that day. I still looked like the
scary angry toddlers but I felt I was at least bringing a little trendiness to
the character. I figured I would just need to tone down the angry face.
This proved harder than
anticipated as it is Spring now; so my woolen winter hat began to radiate heat
down through my scalp which made me feel like I was spending the day inside the Happy Ghost's heated robe. It also made my forehead itch, so I kept angrily scratching at it and grimacing while talking to important people at work. But this is really not an excuse because in general I seem to be angry with many things: Fellow
drivers; things I have to carry such as drink bottles; and strangers who combine
their run with a trip to the supermarket. While with Liz the other day she got
to witness my outburst as I threatened to punch a perfectly dressed young lady
as she jogged into the store ahead of us to purchase some fruit. To my endless
shame I had told Liz I was “a little grumpy today” to make it seem like an anomaly
when in actuality I have been grumpy everyday and have no excuse to punch
runners. But seriously, people that are that efficient make my skin feel too tight. First of all running to the supermarket wouldn't be a long enough work out and second how do you carry everything home? I realize I don't have very good hands but still. When have you ever gone to the supermarket for just one thing? I often go intending to get one thing and then end up carrying fifteen things like a circus performer - the clown one. Because everything just falls on the floor and other people have to pick it up and pile it on top of the balanced box of tampons for me while I laugh like it is normal for people to follow me around picking up my sundries. Yes I should get a basket, that's true, but those things are layered with a healthy slather of germs. The person before me could have had Ebola or just a cold but with all the ways the medical profession is trying to kill me, a common cold is like Ebola to me. So shut up. I am too grumpy and sick to use a basket.
Also the food situation has gotten worse. In order to save time I
purchased (with Liz, at the supermarket after I had responded to all of her
food ideas with a grunt or growl – I think she is still friends with me I haven’t
had time to check…) some premade pumpkin soup - you know the kind that is like
“this is just canned soup but we said it is organic and put it in a non-biodegradable bag so it seems better for you” soup. Not surprisingly it was
tasteless - not bland but literally had no taste as if they had just put
colored water in the fancy bag. So I began my process of “doctoring” the mush.
What I ended up with tasted great when I had one spoonful so I served it. Turns
out, what I had made was gravy. Which does taste delicious on its own, one
mouthful at a time, but after two or three it’s not so nice. I didn’t bother to
fix it because I was too tired and I like gravy. Al tried it and said it was good
but only managed a few bites before gagging and asking what the lumpy bits were. I
told him it was flour that I had tried to thicken it with. (I said this around
another mouthful as I was too hungry to care.) He put his spoon down and said,
“Maybe we could eat it with something else on another night and left his bowl
on the table. I finished mine - I was hungry, don't judge me. I had to do an actual never-ending 8 kilometer work out not a happy jog around the block to the supermarket like some stupid person with her perfect smooth no-knot bouncy ponytail and her cute pink and white running outfit with her matching iPod thingy on her arm. I don’t know what Al ate. Luckily Amelia was fed by another parent who still takes care of her children. Even though I am sure she is just as busy taking all the children to one of the thousand soccer practices we all have to get to. Speaking of which I have to go. I am late for the gym - I know this doesn't seem true but I have to get there while the quiz show is on to distract me; otherwise the hours I spend there make me so angry I start yelling at other patrons. This is real... it happened.
