"You Drive Me Crazy"
I was sleeping in the shower this morning when Hoop opened the bathroom door to say...
"There's blood all over the carpet."
My first thought was that he was awfully calm for having just killed someone.
Ok, my brain told me, you heard that wrong. Maybe he meant clothes. There are always clothes on the carpet.
"Jazzi cut her paw on something. She's OK, but now there's blood on the carpet."
The carpet that is WHITE. The carpet that I just got professionally cleaned. So what's a girl to do but finish washing her hair? I think the state of my house has made me a fanatic about my own hygiene. The other day I caught myself brushing my arm hair so that it all pointed in the same direction.
"How do we clean this?" Hoop asked, standing in his nice clothes, helplessly. "Just GO." I was already putting cold water and vinegar in a bowl. Fridays are the days I blow-dry my hair down, I thought while blotting the stains. I glanced at the clock, knowing I wouldn't have time for that.
"How are things?" Hoop asked over the two-way as I snapped the hairband in place. "I'm LATE, if that's any indication." I hate mornings that start like this. They're the mornings that make me realize I'm going to be a shitty Mother. "Now don't bleed on anything while I'm away," I told the dog as I was leaving.
On the way to work I had mental fantasies of what my coworker was going to say when he saw my hair. This particular sales guy has appointed himself fashion police. "You should keep your hair down," he whines, Monday through Thursday. "It looks better that way." No amount of explaining will do. He doesn't care about my commute.
So I heard him in my head on the way to work. Because Fridays are the days I let my hair down. But not today. Today there was blood on the carpet. I found myself cringing over an argument that hadn't happened yet. It was unavoidable. So for forty-five minutes I fantasized about beating him up. He cried like a little girl.
"Today's my last day," one of our route guys whispered to me on his way out. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah. I'm moving to Arizona with my ex-wife." "Again? Didn't she get a restraining order on you?" "No need bringing up old shit." "It was a month ago." "It's going to work this time." "Ok."
"Besides," he said. "My roommates bailed on rent. I gotta get out. I'm sick of being used." "I think you're headed in the wrong direction than." "What?" "Good luck!" Another couple of hours pass, marked by the surprise of free beer. My office mates all cheer and thank the boss for his sudden generosity.
Then someone notices the beer is old. We all go back to work. A coworker comes over to complain that she can't get a smoke break. "I don't smoke anymore," I mumble. "I know. I thought you'd understand at least." She huffs off for a puff. When she comes back, she trails the smell of cold and ash. "Ahhhh!" She says, smiling like she's in a Coca-cola commercial.
I wait for five o'clock, draining the coffee pot. Finally, the dreaded salesman returns. He points at my hair and opens his mouth. "My dog cut her paw and bled all over our white carpet this morning and I was running late because I had to clean it up and so help me God if you say another word about my hair I will seriously hurt you."
He shuts his mouth. Smug, I go back to my cube, feeling as if I diffused a bomb. "It really does look better down," he says. I can feel my neck flushing. But he doesn't run. He stands there, waiting for a response. "Oh my God." It comes out like a moan. "What?" "I know why she did it!" "Who?" "Britney Spears."
Have a great weekend!
* I'm halfway through a new chapter for Twisted (Tink). It should be ready by early next week. This would be a great time for those who haven't read it to catch up. *Nudge* Please?
* Don't forget, the WWC words for next week are YELLOW and INANIMATE (meaning "not alive").