Raw Drip

So, I’m at work today dressed in what I call my “zommby” costume – sort of a working mother + traditional zombie look. It’s not so much a costume as a uniform, since it’s pretty much the way I look everyday. My look, not surprisingly, consists of a general “undead” appearance complete with an aged pallor, bed head, dark circles under the eyes, disheveled mom clothing, and candy corn earrings.

The only problem is that my costume seems to be too clever for most people here. They just don’t seem to “get” that I’m a zommby. They didn’t even bother to enter my name into the office Halloween costume contest. I want (and deserve) a shot at that $10 Applebees gift card, darnit! You people can play “dress up” one day a year, but me and my fellow zommbies are trapped in our costumes every single day.

Alas, I can only assume that my coworker’s diss means that my all too clever look just totally rocks on the authenticity front. Sadly, and In true zommby-like fashion, my quest for brains continues ‘cuz clearly we’re fresh out of ‘em at the office.

When I was giving Tabitha a hug the other morning, she pulled back from my embrace and stared deep into my eyes for a moment. With an expression that spoke of earnestness mixed with confusion, she raised her tiny finger to point to my mouth and said, “Mama, you’ve got old, dirty teeth.”

Even my daughter, suffering from a case of the terrible threes, could see that mommy was in much worse shape.

Later that day as I was driving to work, a favorite old song came on the radio, “Love Bites” by Def Leppard and suddenly the gap between me now and me “then” was almost too much to take. Even though I could still remember every word of that beloved song – even though I could even remember how it felt to drive in my 1982 metallic blue Dodge Colt with the tape deck blaring – I couldn’t remember what if felt like to actually BE 16 anymore. Oh, intellectually, I can imagine what it felt like to be young, impulsive and on the cusp of new freedoms I could only dream of without realizing the freedoms I’d have to shed along the way. But the ability to actually reach deep within and grasp the feelings of the 16 year old that was me – that ability was gone, presumably another trade off made in pursuit of my life today.

Suddenly, it wasn’t just my teeth that were getting old.

*****

A few days later I was chatting with a girlfriend who was enduring her own little thirty-something crisis. Out of the blue, she’d gotten an email from an old high school boyfriend and it stirred up feelings she’d long forgotten. It wasn’t that she wanted to go out with him again, or even that she regretted anything about their time together, it was more of a realization that that part of her life was over so long ago. Profoundly, deeply over.

Sympathetic, I tried to comfort her by telling her that everyone changes – we all have these moments when the changes in the terrain smack us in the face and hindsight is 20/20. I reassured her that all we can do is embrace, learn, and laugh along the way. For a moment I was almost comforted by my own words.

*****

Chatting with another good friend a few weeks ago, she revealed the fact that she has a Facebook page. After getting over my stunned horror that anyone I know would actually have something so pedestrian and trendy as a Facebook page, it occurred to me to ask her if she’d met any old acquaintances. Somehow, the conversation steered from people she’s reconnected with to people she has no interest in reconnecting with, including a particular person – a boy from our high school class named Barry – who was a spectacularly nerdy social outcast known for his skin-tight brown polyester pants, thick glasses and a pronounced lisp. Curious, she had taken a quick look at Barry’s Facebook page which confirmed it. Barry may be hip enough to have a Facebook page, but one glance at his (now balding) nerdy photo and the caption beneath reading, “Barry has 1 friend” was all the update we needed on his life.

Could it be that, maybe our youth wasn’t all it was cracked up to be?

*****

Okay, so when I was 16 I wore a size 12 and weighed – well- let’s just say a LOT less than I do now. I was fairly pretty with lovely, long golden brown hair that I never appreciated and an exceedingly flat stomach that I long to reclaim. I also had much more free time and possessed the boundless dreams that can only be held by someone who hasn’t faced many of life’s obstacles yet.

Of course I also had bad acne breakouts timed with my excruitiatingly painful periods, 80’s bangs that stuck straight up into the air (held there securely by a generous spraying of Aquanet), and almost no fashion sense (see bangs). On top of that, I lived at home with my mom and stepfather who ceaselessly bickered and refused to spring for basic cable TV, had a menial job where the owner of the tiny drug store I worked for called me “Babe” whenever he patted me on the ass, and no steady boyfriend. Not much to like about any of those things.

So, maybe the lesson learned here is that it’s easy and normal to be whistful about the past. Perhaps it’s even Mother Natures way of reminding us not to take too much for granted today. After all, I’m old enough to know that today’s sorrows becomes tomorrow’s healed wounds and today’s mistakes are tomorrow’s lessons learned. The terrible thirties aren’t really so terrible as they are remarkable. My thirties have shown me that my tranformation into a grown-up is well underway, especially now that I’m finally old enough to realize that the ultimate power of change – self acceptance – is totally up to me.

Thankfully, I have some more time to figure out how to do that before my next mid-life crisis strikes.

Mercifully, the oppressive Florida summer weather has finally lifted revealing pleasantly cool conditions – perfect for us to tackle the task of unpacking all the boxes stashed in our garage since April’s move.

As Dick and I opened and sorted dusty boxes and their nearly forgotten contents, I was reminded of the same conversation we’ve had year after year for about the last 10 years…

Me: Honey, why do we have all these boxes that say “computer cables”, “computer parts”…and here’s another one that says “computer crap”?  Shouldn’t you just go through these and throw out some stuff?

Dick:  Just set it aside and I’ll get to it later.

Me:  There’s no time like the present!  How about you dig in now and get it over with.  I can help you.  There’s no sense in paying to move it just because you don’t feel like sorting through it now.

Dick: I’m not going to take the time to do it now.  I’d rather pay someone to move it and then sort it out when we’re not in a rush – when it’s more convenient. 

Fast forward to yesterday. 

We’ve moved 7 times in the past 10 years never having found a “convenient” time to go through all the accumulated computer stuff.  In fact, we’ve only added more boxes onto the pile year after year.  After unveiling our gazillionth box o’ miscellaneous computer crap…

Dick: Holy cow do we ever have a lot of boxes full of computer stuff!  Every other box I open is crammed full of cables, disks, parts, and monitors… How did you allow me hang onto this crap for all these years?  There’s just box after box, after box of it.  It’s ridiculous!

Me:  What do you mean, “how did I allow…?”  I’ve been begging, threatening, bargaining, and nagging you to get rid of this crap for years!  Every time we have this conversation you tell me you’d rather pay someone to move it and then deal with it later – when it’s “convenient”.

Dick:  Did I say that?  I don’t think I said that.  No.  I can’t believe I’d say something like that… 

Me: So, your honor and members of the jury, that is how Samantha finally snapped.  After 10 years of schlepping boxes full of junk from coast to coast, agonizing over them, paying extra to ensure their safe arrival at every destination, cleaning around them while all the while begging her husband to do something, anything to free her from this terrible burden - she snapped.  And who can blame her?  What reasonable person wouldn’t grab the nearest broken, obsolete 5 port Ethernet hub and bludgeon her husband to death under these circumstances?

Dick: A simple yes or no would suffice.