I’m impressed by the fact that Bill Hendrickson from “Big Loveactually thinks the all mighty is sending him messages to steer him in the right direction. I think destiny is a beautiful thing to believe in, I really do. But I just can’t buy into hanging around waiting for some sign from the universe to smack you in the face. When the going gets rough, you’ve got to take ownership and grab life by the horns…or the shopping cart by its handles. Either way.
Allow me to explain.
So, Wegmans is a thing for me. It symbolizes order. I hate going, but when I get to the check-out, I feel an abnormally strong sense of calm in knowing that I’m set for the week. I feel comfort in knowing I’ll have apples, and bananas, and baby carrots, and hot cocoa mix for those rough days when I just want to cuddle up and forget about the world. (Maybe Lindsay Bluth is rubbing off on me.) I’m sure I’ll have a sufficient amount of protein (being the non-meat eater that I am), calcium, iron, and all that other important good stuff. I know I won’t have to spend extra money rushing out of the office for those five minutes between meetings to grab a bite to eat.
Did I mention I started a new job? (Hence the lack of new and exciting posts, as of late — sorry, folks.) I really love it, but with it, comes a heck of a lot more responsibility. I’m talking A game, all the time.
It’s been a trial and a labor of love to learn the language of the agency world — putting in 10 to 11 hours a day, neglecting regular chores like grocery shopping and my morning exercise routine, and mostly, not seeing the Mister as much. (We used to work in the same building.)
I’ve been working hard, and I know I’m doing the best I can. But still, on nights when I’ve come home exhausted and Jimmy has asked what I wanted to order for dinner, I’ve felt utterly deflated. Falling behind on those daily chores has felt far more like failure than it should. Alas, I know “I’m not Superwoman,” as Barb confesses in “Big Love.”
Still, I’d felt like I was in a downward spiral of always feeling hopelessly behind. Too much time had passed that I’d been off my schedule, off-kilter.
So finally, at the end of yesterday’s 11-hour day that started with an early morning show and ended with a host of new jobs I knew I wouldn’t finish in time, I vowed to venture forth on my journey toward post-work grocery store chaos. I reminded myself that as cranky as the hoard of post-work chore-driven drones would be, I was one of them.
I know East Ave. Wegmans like the back of my hand. I took the big shopping cart, even though I knew how unmerciful the narrow aisles would be. I lingered a little, on choosing my box of tea and extra lemons. I grabbed multiple items I thought we’d need in case of an emergency. Who knew when I’d ever get to grace the aisles of Wegmans again? for another three weeks.
I cruised through check-out, with my massive stash. “Just these three things for me,” the guy behind me said. I walked out, realizing my gluttonous purchasing spree, but proud to have passed the finish line, none-the-less. I marched up to the house, and tried my best to put on a good face. The husband saw how beaten up I looked, and promptly assumed grocery-unpacking duties, told me to sit down, and poured me a glass of the boxed wine I’d allowed myself to purchase.
An hour later, we were back in our own little world, side-by-side, hand-in-hand, having escaped into a great movie. I breathed a deep sigh, knowing that at the end of the day, things would be okay. I’d get a new routine down and seize control of my unfamiliar path. I’d adjust. And during the growing pains, I knew that at end of the day, all I needed laid within the walls of our little brick house.