I love three-day weekends. After working in the retail coffee business for many years, where holidays are typically high-volume sales days and taking the day off is taboo, I especially appreciate not having to work on Labor Day, Fourth of July and Memorial Day.
The only bad thing about three-day weekends is getting back into my regular work routine. With all the leisure time I had over Memorial Day weekend, you’d think I’d be refreshed and raring to go on Tuesday morning.
But no. I could barely drag myself out of bed. Snuggling deeper under my fluffy covers, I closed my eyes and wished for another day off. The wish didn’t come true, however, so I was forced to leave my comfy nest and jump in the shower.
I carried out my get-ready-for-work tasks in a virtual daze. Once dressed, I stood next to the chest of drawers for about 10 minutes, elbows propped on top, listening to some peppy music on my iPhone music app. Although music often has the power to lift me out of a funky mood, Katy Perry and O.A.R. did nothing for me that morning.
Walking out of the house, I headed for the car. Pulling car keys from my giant purse, my Blue Tooth dropped on the driveway. Sighing expansively, I bent over in my pencil skirt and high heels, balancing precariously on the driveway’s downhill slope. Somehow I managed to grab the Blue Tooth and make it upright without splitting my skirt or falling over.
Then I noticed a small piece of paper had fallen out with the Blue Tooth. I looked at it suspiciously. What could it be? Knowing my purse, it was probably trash. But there was also the chance it could be a little picture my granddaughter had drawn for me over the weekend. If it was, I hated to leave it to the squirrels.
Bending over slightly, I peered at the paper and saw it was just a store receipt. Choosing to save myself from any bodily injury and embarrassment that might occur by me toppling over in the driveway to pick up the trash, I chose not to.
Climbing into my low-slung car, carefully, so as not to split my skirt, I realized I had forgotten my sunglasses in the bathroom. Sighing again, I performed a gymnastic maneuver to climb back out of the car.
I walked in the house and, noticing the air conditioning thermostat needed adjusting, headed down the hall to reset it. Walking back to the front door, I saw the Mother’s Day gift bag from my kids lying on the dining room table. I decided to take my gifts to work, thinking they would comfort me on what was turning out to be a not-so-great Tuesday.
Returning to the car with the gift bag, I managed to back into the driver’s seat with all clothing intact. Arranging my stuff in the seat next to me, I searched for the sunglasses.
I had forgotten them again.
I climbed back out of the car, not so gracefully this time, not caring about my skinny skirt or my heels sinking into the damp earth as I crossed the lawn. Sighing exuberantly, I stomped through the house to the bathroom and grabbed the sunglasses.
Then, I smelled something funny. Sniffing wildly, I followed the wafting odor into my office. That’s where I found the “gift” my crazy cat left on the futon. After cleaning up the kitty present, all I could do was head to work and hope for the best.
Needless to say, getting back into the swing of things after a three-day weekend was not easy. But on a positive note, I managed to keep all my possessions in place for the rest of the day and did not have to bend over to retrieve any other dropped items.
Hallelujah for the little things, I say.