modern life

It’s a good day (12/30/16)

I wasn’t able to fall asleep until almost 2am, long after RB was able to rock the baby back to sleep with a fresh diaper, some Tylenol and a small bottle.  You’d never have known he had been sent home sick that afternoon, projectile puke blanketing the floors of daycare after an uncharacteristically long nap.

My brain became a whirlwind of ideas and achievable goals for 2017, and I was finally able to pass out with Star Wars in the background (shame on me, it works every time).  

I was woken minutes before my alarm was scheduled to go off to the sound of beautiful, chirping baby speak, a language BB and his buddies developed amongst themselves at school.  With stomach queasy and eyes puffy from lack of sleep, my first thoughts were of the dark dream I had been roused from: I was about to perform at my dance recital and, dressed in my sequined, feather ladened tap costume, suddenly found myself without the signature tan stockings.  My pink ballet tights were full of holes and wouldn’t work.  I called my mother to buy me some quickly before we went on stage and was greeted with her voice in a chilled whisper: Get out of there now!   Confused, I asked her what she meant.  My mother responded louder and with shocking force, Look behind you- get out now!  

As I turned around I saw sleek figures clad entirely in black, faces covered and machine guns strapped to their backs; they dropped from the ceiling by ropes that were pulled taut by the weight of their shadowed frames.  Gunshots rang out and people screamed, my body became swept into the panicked crowd that darted in the opposite direction.

This was a not so subtle reminder by my subconscious that I need to take workplace violence and harassment training by 12/31/16.  Since today’s Thursday and I’ll be at the Union Hall tomorrow I guess I need to go into work today.  

So here I am, queasy and awake only thanks to the power of coffee, trying to figure out how to complete my training and catch up on everything else while half expecting the call from daycare saying BB isn’t feeling well again and needs to come home.  The ride in wasn’t bad despite the roads, slick from the new snow falling and quickly collecting on the ground.  

Until, walking the half mile from my parking lot to the office, I received a gift from a passing car: 

Despite that I was able to hang in there.  The water eventually dries, the clothes get cleaned, we punch out of work and move onto the next adventure.  

It can always be a good day. 

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