I read somewhere that the pressure under the stiletto heel of an average sized woman was equal or greater to the weight created by a skyscraper. Whether or not this is true- it will be relevant later.
SO. Last night I couldn’t sleep. I tried making Secret Santa cards for my coworkers; the repetitive cutting of snowman circles and application of glitter was to be soothing. It didn’t work but there was something about the sweetly lopsided pile of candy canes and ribbon that had to make me smile. I decided to take a bath with the pretty oils the girls from work gave me and in no time I was feeling deliciously drowsy... I’ll fix my hair in the morning.
This morning the alarm goes off and I lie there thinking happy Christmas thoughts and relishing the fact that it’s only 5:30 and I can sleep for another 15 minutes and still have plenty of time to fix my hair. Then the phone rings. HUH? Felicia makes her morning, ‘Are you up/coming to get me’ call at 6:30... *looks at phone*. Apparently the alarm has been going off all morning. Oh my freakin’ god- it’s 6:30.
MAD DASH about the apartment. Clothes- check. Hair? I look like one of the creatures from Fraggle Rock. Oh hell. Oooh- quick think happy Christmas thoughts! Oh that’s right, Secret Santa cards, how fabulous:) I run to the living room to scoop them into a bag when THESMELL hits me. Hard. Norman has peepeed on my cards. Yes, that’s right- I said he peepeed, the important part being... on. my. cards- that I spent half the night making.
After standing there, in shock, for who knows how long- debating the different approaches to kitty parenting- I decide, I don’t have time for this right now. I toss the cards in the trash and Normy, from his kitty hiding place is overjoyed that he is not being punished this morning. So overjoyed, in fact, that he decides we’re going to play as I’m running out the door. (Playing means putting this body directly underneath my sharp, pointy heels.) I know I’m not at my best because for a second I thought it would serve him right not to care...
But then I remembered the skyscrapers and cared again.
Those of you with cats understand the abruptly absurd bending of the laws of physics in order to project one’s entire body weight away from the furry feline in question... It’s okay though- I broke my fall on the door. With my face.
Oh my god- it’s 6:45. I have exactly 15 minutes to get to Felicia’s and then downtown. I better stop for coffee. Or more specifically- a chai frappe. I just... I just have to. So I’m at the counter, liberally sprinkling the top with cinnamon when the top of the shaker comes off and pours a gallon of cinnamon down my leg. *Fun cinnamon fact I’ve learned since I started mainlining chai: when dry, cinnamon can easily be brushed off but the second it gets wet, it forms a sticky red paste that will NEVER come off of your clothing. Note to self: don’t get wet.
Running down the parking ramp to the car, I’m shaking my pant leg trying to dodge traffic when suddenly I hit a patch of ice. Yay! I’m flying! And I’m so proud of myself- I manage to land on my back with my cinnamon leg sticking up in the air. Oh yeah.
I get to Felicia’s and she hops in the car and we’re off. We both have a good laugh about our already dysfunctional early days- she’s no better off. She and her kids are having a dishes war, which is why she has a mason jar filled with ice water on her lap. The Normandy’s water is just. gross. So she brings her own. (In the comedy world, this is known as ‘the set-up’. I’d try misdirection, but we all know where this is going)
I pull up to the parking lot gate, just starting to get my Christmas jollies back… have to slow down to pull a ticket to make the bar go up when something funny happens. I *know* I told my foot to do one thing. Let’s slow down foot! But it decided to do something else. Like stomp on the gas. As the bar gets closer and closer, and we start to go faster and faster- my mind can’t quite wrap itself around what’s going on.
If Felicia hadn’t have screamed I probably would have rammed the gate! (Maybe pent up foot hostility towards downtown parking prices?) As it happened her scream was just enough to fix the broken connection to my foot to slam on the brakes. Yep. She threw her water everywhere.
So here I am at work. Big crazy frizzy hair on one side, flat on the other... (I stuck a santa hat on my head to cover it up) red pants... reeking of cinnamon.
Merry Christmas everybody:D
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