A post in which I use a creatively dodgy reason to avoid the gym

It was a beastly day at work today. I spent most of it trying to fix stupid, or being asked questions to which I had no answers. Repeatedly. My boss was incommunicado at a Big Wig meeting downtown. At lunchtime I hid in a disused area of the office to avoid being found and have a few moments of peace. Our cafeteria, far from being a refuge, is usually almost as bad as eating at your desk. Between impromptu meetings where nauseating corporate-speak is relished like fine wine and woven like a vile veil of putrescence in the atmosphere, the big-screen TV loudly regurgitating inane 24-hour news babble (frequently from FOX ‘news’, to add insult to injury), the kitchen staff radio blaring endless pop music (or worse, trumpeting advertisements), and the 10-degree higher difference between that area and the rest of the building, it’s about as relaxing as a subway platform.

I finished my auction book at lunch, only to have it fizzle into saccharine sentimentality at the end.

By the end of the day, I just wanted to escape. But I hadn’t worked out yesterday, plus I had consumed at least a thousand calories at dinner last night. Then I remembered that Eve needed a squeezy-ball to help her physical therapy from recent hand surgery. I scared one up (there’s always a bunch floating around here from regular vendor days), and called Eve to tell her that I would drop it to her on my way home from work. As good an excuse as any, I thought. I had to pick up a book I had left over there when I went with them to Ava’s birthday party anyway.

So I’m sitting in traffic fairly defeated (it’s almost impossible to get from my office to the east side of town in less than half an hour, though the distance is about 7 miles), wishing I had some cigarettes in the car, debating stopping and buying a pack (and incurring the Wrath of Dad should he smell them on my breath), and thinking I could really use a trip to Miss Kat and dana’s house for dramatic renewal of purpose. Five minutes later, just as I decided not to bother them in my present mood on a school night, the phone rang. It was dana, inviting me over. After calling down heaven’s blessings upon her soul and her (unlikely) descendants, I accepted.

I ran the gamut in much better spirits. I took the squeezy-ball to Eve, picked up my book, visited as briefly as was polite, and was given a bag of veggie meatballs they had tried and didn’t like. So there was supper, providentially provided. I left their house and ran into a traffic jam from a wreck, complete with ambulance and seemingly endless delay. Eventually though, I got to a grocery store entrance and cut in to purchase fresh whole wheat bakery rolls and thickly sliced smoked Provolone.

I arrived at home (after detouring around the wreck from the grocery store parking lot), threw the meatballs in the microwave, fed the cats, assembled and consumed a downright toothsome ‘meat’ball sandwich in record time, washed the dinner and supper dishes, changed clothes, and boomerang-ed back out the door in about 30 minutes. I was at their house by 7:30, ready for Calgon to take me away. Only dana was out of Calgon. I didn’t realize my invitation was for both myself and my supplies.

I found that their company alone, however, acted upon me like a tonic. dana made decadently delicious cookies, which we devoured warm from the oven as we talked and visited the evening away. I left the house feeling that I could face the day tomorrow, despite the unmet challenges waiting to assail me. Sometimes I don’t think I deserve my friends. Only nine more work hours before the weekend.