Rotten Morning Redeemed by Afternoon

Today was one of those rare days, you know the ones, where one wakes up knowing there are important things to be done but everything is pretty much fine when you begin your day. You let the dog out, the kid leaves the house just in time to catch the bus, and you sit down with a nice mug of something hot to drink. Then, thing after thing happens in rapid succession and you wind up driving down the road, biting your lip as you hold back back tears so that you don't have to pull over and melt into a pile of blubbering mush.
 

My Problem Child

I really worl very hard to find the bright side of adversity. Pity parties are out. I reframe and overcome. That is what I do. But although I have not physically, out-and-out cried since... oh... I guess I would put it at about late 2007 or very early 2008 (the discovery of my husband's adultery), that odd-occuring, tear-restrained day was today for me (no details provided), the lip biting while driving thing happening just about noon. Then I pulled over for a cheap burger and fries, continued on to the auto salvage yard, and discovered that my tires had not yet arrived. They were promised for today, but will not be in until tomorrow -- AFTER my appointment with the auto mechanic.

Aaah!! I really need to escape to my Northern project house/retreat/sanctuary this long weekend and I won't be able to drive there without my tires AND my "control arms" (whatever those are) and front struts replaced. I already felt overburdened, but now I also feel trapped. Sigh.

Good news: While I was already at the auto salvage yard, I asked how much new control arms would cost me and there is a set already there that is VERY affordable. Same thing for the struts I need. I just have to let the guy know a day and a half in advance before I can pick them up.

I drove home on tires so bald in patches that I am driving on the steel belts. I was home just in time to use the restroom before grabbing the keys to my dad's car, and driving to pick up my daughter for her orthodontic appointment. As we proceeded into Milwaukee, I informed Anne that she will be lucky to have a sane mother at the end of this school year. I sat in the waiting area, playing games on my laptop while Anne saw the student doctor. When they were finished, he escorted her into the waiting room to find me... and then something a little strange happened.

Perhaps because I was unusually quiet, perhaps because the holiday weekend fast approaches, the doctor seemed to want to engage in conversation. First, he looked over my shoulder and asked what I was doing. (I was losing at Mahjong.) Then he told me he had already set the next appointment with Anne because he has an extended break for the holidays. Also not a big deal since everything revolves around Anne's schedule anyway. But then the young (happily married) doctor kept talking. Every time he started to walk away, he would turn back with something else to say. What unusual behavior for his normally quiet demeanor. It almost seemed like he was looking for something to say to continue engaging in conversation. Strange. 

I was feeling better by that time (around 4:30 pm) and able to go home, but I decided to keep my promise to Anne and take her to Cici's Pizza Buffet in West Allis for an early dinner. We were, after all, driving pretty close by it, so why not use the opportunity?

A girl who did not recognize us rang us up at the cash register. She will remember us next time. I had her ding the new-guest welcome-bell so that all the workers would call out, "Hi! Welcome to Cici's!" This AS Anne looked around a corner to see who was managing tonight.

"It's Brad," Anne announced.

I beamed a grin at the cashier before turning to find a table, greeting, "Hi Brad," as I passed him.

"Hi, Ms. Durkee. How are you tonight?" He responded. (See what I mean about the cashier remembering me? When the manager greets you by name, workers remember you.)

"Tired."

"I hear ya' there!"

We found our table, then I went to the buffet for some salad and breadsticks. While there, a middle-aged male worker engaged both Anne and me in conversation. He was very friendly and chatty, telling us his age, that he has returned to college (MY Alma Mater, of all places) and making reference to his wife. Strange, but I figured he is just one of those friendly people -- somewhat like I am, but I do it better.

A few minutes later, after I had some salad and breadsticks in my belly, I was feeling slightly better, so I approached Brad at the buffet. "You should go out and look at the car I am driving tonight. I have a story to tell you about it. -- It's my dad's so you probably won't see me driving it again."

"Oh, yeah?" Brad was all ears. I told him the story. (No, I am not putting it in this blog.) He was impressed. I returned to the table, contentedly feeling better after the positive feedback from my audience of one.

Then it happened again. Brad, while passing around to all the tables and checking on everyone's meals, stopped at our table. Just like the student orthodontist, he said what he needed to say, started to walk away, then found something else to continue conversing. Interesting. I began to ponder....

Here is what I came up with: Usually, I am chatty and engaging. I really do talk to everybody. (How else would I generate ideas and characters for my stories?) What's more, I truly enjoy talking to most people and even getting to know them. They must like talking to me, too, because today I was very quiet (due to the rotten morning I had) -- and casual acquaintances not only noticed my quiet mood, they tried to cheer me up by engaging in some additional friendly conversation. (Either that -OR- my normal soap and shampoo just smell especially good today...?)

I feel pretty good about that. Having people care enough to try to cheer you up when you are just looking down is really quite an accomplishment. Thanks for caring, everyone.