Can you hear the whistle blow?
Sounds like time the avenger
(Time, time hear the bells chime)
Over the harbor in the city
(Time kill another bottle of wine)
To help paralyze that little
Tick, tick, tick, tick
It’s mid-April already, and so much I intended to do “in 2013” has not yet happened. Not necessarily “New Year’s Resolutions,” which everyone reviles, but just THINGS, things I was going to do before it got warm, which is also when I tend to get Very Busy with All The Things. The Things are pressing on me, asking for an open weekend to schedule this Thing or that Thing, such that I am already declining Things I Want To Do in favor of Things I Have To Do, which is kind of what most of life is, no?
In another sense, I cannot believe I have been at my job nine years. A job I took only to get away from waitressing (again), which was the only job I could find after I was laid off from my old job, which I really liked, but from which nearly everyone was laid off. “I’ll just take it for now, and keep looking,” I told myself. Which I have done. I’ve interviewed for a handful of jobs, including one in Los Angeles, but nothing was the “right fit” as they say, on both sides of the table, so I am still here, yet still looking.
I get a decent amount of vacation days each year, now that I’ve been here so fucking long. Hence scheduling All The Things, which I try to parcel out as a couple of days here and a couple of days there so I don’t use up all the time at once. I like to be away from here as often as possible.
And then I think about how long I’ve been sitting on my ass all day. With the exception of the aforementioned return to waitressing, I’ve been sitting all day for work since sickness forced me out of the standing-work world, which was around 1993. I was grateful for the opportunity to get off my feet, to have some stability, to not have my income dependent upon the day’s sales and the kindness of strangers, to have insurance and paid vacation days. It seemed like heaven. 20 years later, it feels like I am rotting, growing into my chair, my lower extremities and back getting tighter and shorter from all the sitting, and harder to work out and stretch out during evenings and weekend. My arms turning to jello. My strength going due to age and various physical problems that prevent me from strength training like I really want to.
I look in the mirror every day and sometimes I think I’m doing pretty good for my age. I’ve seen people my age in other places who are not doing so hot. But I’m pretty good at applying makeup, too 🙂 Sometimes when I don’t wear makeup on the weekends and I go grocery shopping, I get carded, which is funny and makes me kind of happy that there’s still even a remote possibility in a stranger’s eyes that I might actually be 23 years younger than I actually am. Other days I look in the mirror and think, “What the fuck happened to you?” and I cannot look at myself any more all that day without horror and shock. I wonder sometimes if it’s like that for other women. Time does indeed march on. And over and on top, crunching you under it’s leaden, black feet like it knows your bones are turning into dry twigs inside.