Some days start out good and almost imperceptibly take a downhill slide. Other days start out bad and just get worse. And then there are the days, like today, that should never have been, but since they did occur they need to be forgotten immediately.
Forget the fact that I normally get up every morning around 3:30 a.m. Forget the fact that my mind functions a few degrees off center. Forget the fact that for me, everyday is a bit different from what would be termed normal. Forget the cops in the morning, the silent alarm I tripped when I could not remember my code to disarm the thing, the fact that I forgot my lunch, my wallet, and my anti-depressant today. Forget all of these and it was still a day from the other side of hell.
Diet is going well. Since Sunday I have managed to consume only 2 small, 12 oz. cokes per day. I have somehow managed to unleash my homicidal tendencies only upon the idiots on the road. and to my credit I haven’t actually killed any of them, just wishing them dead instead. Oh, and spouting a few creative profanities at them.
None of this is what made the day so bizarre. I was sitting at my desk at the office, minding my own business, as I so often do, when my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller id but did not recognize the number. It was however a local number and not that unusual for me to have callers I don’t know. So I answered it. That was the first mistake.
This woman, who sounded as if she were enjoying her medications a bit too much asked to speak to Michael. I told her there was no Michael here. She asked again to speak to Michael. I informed her again that there was no Michael here and in fact I did not know a Michael. She insisted just a bit too emphatically that I let her speak to Michael dammit. I told her that I was speaking to her on my private cell phone and Michael did not exist in my world. She then told me that if I did not let her speak with Michael she would report me to the authorities. (I’m not sure just which authorities she thought she would report me to.) I told her report me to everyone for all I cared, and do what she had to do. That she had in fact dialed a wrong number. She insisted that I get Michael from wherever he was hiding and get him on the phone post haste. I told her he was busy under my desk. She hung up. I thought it was over.
In just under 2 minutes my phone rang again. Same number calling. Same over medicated or inebriated woman calling insisting I had Michael and if I didn’t want the authorities called I better let her speak with him. I hung up this time. I then picked up my desk phone and called the authorities. Within 5 minutes the authorities, also known as the city police, were at my office. When I explained the threatening phone calls to the nice police officer she asked if I had the number of the “Michael crazed woman.” The officer had central dispatching patch her through to one extremely over medicated woman. When confronted by the officer, the crazed woman said that the officer had reached a private room in some hospital and then promptly hung up on the officer. Who knows, maybe Michael showed up at the hospital. Maybe, more likely probably, it wasn’t a hospital at all. Maybe Michael exists only in the mind of one crazy, over medicated woman. Most likely Michael ran away to Belize which I believe is out of phone reach from the local numbers around here. I was told to keep a Michael log noted these particular phone calls.
Problem solved. Back to work.
All was well until I arrived home. If you remember from prior posts, my grandson and I had been feeding the birds this past weekend. Well, I, in my haste to do something to keep my mind off the caffeine I lacked, left the bag of bird seed sitting on the bench on my front porch. In my caffeine, sugar, and calorie deprived mind I failed to give the birds and squirrels credit for the ingenuity they possess when it comes to food. As i stepped out of my car I felt an unfamiliar crunch under my feet. The crunch extended from where I park my car on the driveway, down the entire length of the walkway to the front porch, across the front porch, on the bench on the bench and especially under the bench. The plastic bag that had once upon a time contained the bird feed, had been shredded and was laying empty under the bench. There had obviously been quite a party at my house and I had not been on the invitee list. The culprits had not cleaned up after the party and were not to be found. I left the mess hoping they would return to the scene of the party and finish off the refreshments. Either that or the first good wind will clean the crunchy bird seed away. If I’m lucky, yeah right, the seeds may even blow onto the dirt and grow some sort of interesting plant or even grass.
I think I’m going in and have a drink. No not wine, more like Coca Cola. No, wait. Wine sounds better and then perhaps I can just forget the day.