outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary

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Jessie's last Tuesday

If my mind was a little cloudy -- say, I was a little drunk, and in a good mood, and ten minutes past a meal -- and you asked me, "is it hard being Jessie?", I'd say, "hell no! I haven't lost a relative in ten years, everyone dear to me is alive and well, I'm healthy and young and ambitious, I'm in love, I'm smart and reasonably attractive, I have a good relationship with my parents, I have goals and the means to achieve them, I have an education and somewhere to go with it, I can get drunk off a half a Smirnoff Ice...being Jessie is a piece of cake, man."

But then, on a day like today, a below-freezing kind of no-glove kind of mail-a-large-back-breaking-box kind of get-out-of-bed-forty-minutes-early kind of day, if you asked me that same question, I'd give you a dirty look and punch your lights out.

Because I have such trouble seeing the big picture when I'm having a day like that.

Let me go on record as saying that I astound me. I astound me. (also, I'll go on record as saying that just because I astound myself, it does not oblige you to feel the same) There's no real reason that I have to impose these deadlines and standards on myself; I could give myself an extra week to do things, or I could do them with only one half my ass. But I got home last night, popped the pie in the oven, and dug into my packing. I emptied out my whole (sole) closet and sorted it all out into bags and boxes, wrapped the presents that would be in danger of being seen by their recipients during the moving process, got the pie out of the oven, broke down the boxes from which all the wrapped presents had come, tucked myself into bed and told myself firmly to wake up early to mail my aunt's gift, which was supposed to go out with Rob yesterday morning before my exit meeting at HR. Then I woke up today at quarter to seven, rushed through my morning routine and left the house by about seven with my package and pie.

Big package, potentially squashable pie. I had thought it would be a good idea to go gloveless so I'd have a better grip, which worked out well for me, except for how EXTREMELY COLD it is outside right now. By the time I got near the top of my street, I had to rest at someone's door stop to stretch my back and get my gloves out of my bag. At which point I realized I was not wearing my bag. Ah, fuck me. Luckily today is the day of the office holiday party, hence the pie, so I wasn't bringing my lunch, and I have all my relevant cards on me, and could live without the other junk in the bag. Fine. I hurried on to the post office, losing feeling in one additional finger per minute I was outside.

I got to the post office at about ten past seven. The post office did not open until seven thirty. $%&*#@! What kind of post office doesn't open until seven thirty during the holiday season? Last year at this time, I came in and the place was bustling, and there was Mr. Tape Man walking around giving tape to the poor hastled P.O. clientele. Today, nuthin. I had to buy an enormous roll of clear tape for five bucks from the Mr. Ripoff Man who runs a small cafe stand inside the building. I spent the next ten minutes taping and untaping and retaping my package until it was just right, and waiting for the post office to open (which it did not do until 7:32, I'll have you know). I stood at the back counter with my giant box topped with pie. Girl who got there ten minutes after me went and stood in front of me. &*&*#$%#@ Do you not realize that I was here long before you were born? Do you not realize that I came over here to be first in line? Do you not realize I have to be at work in a half an hour?

Now another man came up and stood beside her, and they started chatting. I festered behind them, shooting tiny optic death needles with poison darts at them. In a huff, I went up and stood beside the girl on her other side. More people came and stood beside the guy. I realized we had a line going here. And I had inadvertently cut to the front of it.

The windows finally opened and I said to the girl, very quietly, "you go ahead, I didn't mean to cut you (even though you cut me first)." The parentheses part I said imaginarily. "Oh no! It's all right," she said; "you go." Damn her for being nice. "Ok, thanks," I said, loathing her.

I finally got my package mailed for the low, low discount price of ten bucks (goddammit) and was set free to the world to scrounge up some kind of breakfast, and a camera. Ah yes, the camera thing. I have some things around the city that I want shots of for my grandmother's scrap book; there are various places that are relevant to my great-great-grandmother. Her houses, the Gold Star Mother Park, her gravesite. I thought I had some exposures left on a disposable camera at my house, but I was wrong. And I had no time to buy another one. Well, after being first in line at the post office today, guess what I had? Time to buy another one, at a 7-11 if you must know.

This is the most boring story I've ever told. Nah, no it's not. And I think I'll keep telling it anyway, just for good measure.

Where was I? 7-11, check. Bought their cheapest disposable camera for ten bucks (ouch), went down into the T station, cutter girl from post office came down behind me, I pretended I was lost and didn't see her.

By the time I got to work, not at all early like I *could* have been, if the post office did open at seven like it SHOULD have, I was so cold I ran the last twenty feet because I just couldn't take it anymore. I sat at my desk for twenty minutes to defrost, then ventured back out again to find breakfast. It is now an hour later. My ears are still tingling ever so slightly and my hands are really holding this morning against me, but hey, I got done all the things I needed to get done. Why, kids? Because I'm Wonder Woman.

A dumb assed Wonder Woman, but Wonder Woman nonetheless.

After work today, I'll be heading to Gold Star Mothers Park to snap its photo. Then off to the library to seek out the article in the Cambridge Chronicle from 1931, in which my esteemed foremother is mentioned for going to France to visit the gravesite of her son. Thank you, ancestry.com! 1931. See, I would have never ever in a zillion years found that article by browsing on my own.

I can probably get home by six thirty tonight, then I'll pack up all my clothes in (and mostly on) my bureau. That'll give me a huge headstart on tomorrow, when I have to have the whole place packed up and ready to go. I'm ready! I can totally handle this.

I feel good about everything. Even if Mrs. F never gets back to us about the negatives, I'll still have great gifts for nearly everyone I bought for this year. (but I still hope she does find those negatives) Everything will be all ready by the end of the week, because I wanted it to be ready and I'm making it ready. That's it! I'm not taking no for an answer.

Here comes my disclaimer again: look, I know this isn't all that amazing. I just happen to be really rather proud of all I've been able to get done. Please carry on in the regular way.

Now, it is time to express my Reservations About the Pie.

I don't know about this pie, you guys. I baked it for an hour, like I was supposed to, but it still smelled kind of smoky and looked kind of dark. I sniffed it thoroughly after it had cooled, and it smelled ok then, but it still looked a little burny and dark. Maybe that's just what happens when you use molasses? Ok, but then this morning I took it out in the freezing cold and it seemed to not really enjoy that overly much. It seemed to sink down into the crust and crack along the top. I've put it in the work fridge to hopefully warm up a little (compared to outside) and regain its composure, but I just don't know how edible it's going to look in three hours. Plus...I had a little trouble making the tofu unnoticeable. There are little telltale chunks of whiteness imbedded in the pumpkin filling. People are going to KNOW.

(sigh) More for me.

Ok, how to close this on an amusing note...how about, the Dep bought her significant other (I want to say sig fig here, but I won't) (oops) exploding blocks for Christmas.

I want exploding blocks.

8:48 a.m. - 2002-12-17

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