When is it a sign?
You and the little man have planned your first vacation alone in the entire 35 years of your marriage. You will not be visiting your old Aunt Suzie because she needs John to fix her screens; you’re not taking a single kid or grandkid and you’re leaving the dog. No Disneyland for you—you’re going straight to Hawaii and laying your fat little body on the beach in a full coverage suit from Dahle’s and hoping like heck that you don’t see anyone from Springville for an entire 10 days!
Suddenly, the day before you leave, the water main breaks in the front yard and your grass is now a rice paddy and you’re waiting for the water police to come by and take you to jail. The dog gets run over by the ice cream truck and the vet wants $600 just to look at his bloody back leg and your daughter calls and says she wants to move back home because she and Whatzhisname are thinking about an open marriage and maybe she just wants a divorce.
Is this a sign? Are you just not supposed to go on this trip? Is the universe punishing you for even thinking about doing something special for yourself?
You’re late. Very late. Your appointment is in Spanish Fork at 4:30 and you were supposed to be at this specialist’s 10 minutes ago. (If there ARE specialists in Spanish Fork.) You’ve waited four months for this appointment and you’re upset that someone strange is going to be poking and prodding around your body anyway in order to tell you that you need more exercise and whole grains.
Suddenly, you realize you’re behind three 18-wheelers trying to turn south onto I-15 from 400 South. You’ve already waited for a 68-car train to pass you on its way to the pipe plant or wherever you can see that there’s a three-car fender bender ahead that everyone has decided to creep past to see if there are any dead people lying about.
Does this happen to you? If there’s a grocery line anywhere in the world, MY checker will be on her first day and not know the price of the one thing I actually need out of $30 worth of items I have purchased on impulse while finding it.
I have decided if the forces of the universe, those great earth creatures or beings—you know, Zeus and Hera or Yoda’s friends—or whoever, are trying to teach me a lesson about being well organized or if there is some power somewhere that specifically feels I MUST BE PUNISHED for every little slip-up.
My husband wonders if it’s just my attitude. Maybe it’s too self-centered to think that the entire world has been orchestrated in a manner designed to comment on my every action. I don’t think so. I think it’s very possible that I’m right here.
My loving but very frank children have felt compelled to mention that I might want to try to be early or on time and that I stop impulse buying. Stop making these little mistakes that seem to dog me wherever I go.
Well, let me tell you. There are other gods, other forces that punish me equally for doing everything right. Whenever I do everything right, nothing seems to go the way it should either. We have people over for dinner. I shop two days before; remember to marinate the steaks exactly 44 minutes before barbecuing time so they don’t just taste like vinegar and garlic, and what happens. The people cancel. The steaks burn. We go to Kentucky Fried and spend $22 and get some good home cooking.
It also could be that it’s just the end of the summer and I’m only perceiving the entire universe to be against me because I need to wake up one morning and not have any kids here. I need to sleep late, eat what I want for breakfast and go to a one o’clock movie at the Provo Mall. I need to ride up the canyon to Kelly’s Grove on a weekday and turn off the car and listen to the leaves blow. I need to shop for new shoes or a new lipstick and try on winter sweaters I won’t wear. I need to be by myself somewhere for five minutes and not feel guilty because I should be somewhere else.
Is this a sign that its August and the end of the summer?
Or am I just nuts?
Suddenly, the day before you leave, the water main breaks in the front yard and your grass is now a rice paddy and you’re waiting for the water police to come by and take you to jail. The dog gets run over by the ice cream truck and the vet wants $600 just to look at his bloody back leg and your daughter calls and says she wants to move back home because she and Whatzhisname are thinking about an open marriage and maybe she just wants a divorce.
Is this a sign? Are you just not supposed to go on this trip? Is the universe punishing you for even thinking about doing something special for yourself?
You’re late. Very late. Your appointment is in Spanish Fork at 4:30 and you were supposed to be at this specialist’s 10 minutes ago. (If there ARE specialists in Spanish Fork.) You’ve waited four months for this appointment and you’re upset that someone strange is going to be poking and prodding around your body anyway in order to tell you that you need more exercise and whole grains.
Suddenly, you realize you’re behind three 18-wheelers trying to turn south onto I-15 from 400 South. You’ve already waited for a 68-car train to pass you on its way to the pipe plant or wherever you can see that there’s a three-car fender bender ahead that everyone has decided to creep past to see if there are any dead people lying about.
Does this happen to you? If there’s a grocery line anywhere in the world, MY checker will be on her first day and not know the price of the one thing I actually need out of $30 worth of items I have purchased on impulse while finding it.
I have decided if the forces of the universe, those great earth creatures or beings—you know, Zeus and Hera or Yoda’s friends—or whoever, are trying to teach me a lesson about being well organized or if there is some power somewhere that specifically feels I MUST BE PUNISHED for every little slip-up.
My husband wonders if it’s just my attitude. Maybe it’s too self-centered to think that the entire world has been orchestrated in a manner designed to comment on my every action. I don’t think so. I think it’s very possible that I’m right here.
My loving but very frank children have felt compelled to mention that I might want to try to be early or on time and that I stop impulse buying. Stop making these little mistakes that seem to dog me wherever I go.
Well, let me tell you. There are other gods, other forces that punish me equally for doing everything right. Whenever I do everything right, nothing seems to go the way it should either. We have people over for dinner. I shop two days before; remember to marinate the steaks exactly 44 minutes before barbecuing time so they don’t just taste like vinegar and garlic, and what happens. The people cancel. The steaks burn. We go to Kentucky Fried and spend $22 and get some good home cooking.
It also could be that it’s just the end of the summer and I’m only perceiving the entire universe to be against me because I need to wake up one morning and not have any kids here. I need to sleep late, eat what I want for breakfast and go to a one o’clock movie at the Provo Mall. I need to ride up the canyon to Kelly’s Grove on a weekday and turn off the car and listen to the leaves blow. I need to shop for new shoes or a new lipstick and try on winter sweaters I won’t wear. I need to be by myself somewhere for five minutes and not feel guilty because I should be somewhere else.
Is this a sign that its August and the end of the summer?
Or am I just nuts?
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