By thirty after nine yesterday morning, I got home to find a couple of cold cheese dogs on my breakfast table in the bedroom. Pauline, the lady who prepared it, wasn't around when I arrived. And around meant nowhere from the garage to the foyer and up the stairs that led to the room, including a side trip to the family room's toilet.
I was not in the mood to discuss where I've been. All I could think of was going to bed.
Truthfully, my mind became myopic the moment I knew it was finally time to make that drive home. I was irreversibly sleepy. There are only two things I am left capable of doing once I park the car, I conditioned myself. Take a pee and doze off.
Getting home wasn't easy. I unhappily hit the breaks during the petty rush hour traffic. That made me only want more to kick off the Doc Marts. I think my toes were turning al dente and, if I may foolishly say, my feet were probably odorous like blue cheese.
Geez. I've been carrying this pair since 8...nah, make that 7. Yesterday!
I was with friends after work. After missing work for two straight days, I stayed with them to catch up on details both professional and personal in nature. I was in their custody for hours and, obviously, despite being physically tired, I couldn't beg off when each one would slam me with a similar you-don't-hang-around-too-much-anymore line.
The faulty charm sometimes is that I'm a notorious friendly colleague. When I would be doing a one-on-one freetime chat with someone, another would come along and drag me somewhere else to be her exclusive sounding board for the moment.
These people perceive me as their energizer bunny with a humongous pair of ears. And, hey, I don't have a batt for life!
Note to self (since age 12, as a matter of fact): I have trouble saying no.
Or just maybe, I'm too nice.
And, maybe again, I enjoy the attention even when it agonizingly drains, instead of sustain, me.
* * *
Just the other day my uncle radiologist told me that, after diagnosing me as stressed out at work, I have too much responsibilities now. Although the notice came without saying to go easy on the wheel, he didn't tell me to shirk from them in a jiffy. He knew I would carry on.
Make those anti-hyperacidity chewables handy.
Keeping tabs with my colleagues is admittedly a fragment of the responsibilities. When there's an EQ necessity to nourish each other like family, I step up on the plate. And this creates a positive chain reaction.
* * *
One of the sms I received before leaving from work yesterday was from Ella. It started out as a banter. She said that I'm avoiding her at work.
She and Deanne, they don't see each other eye-to-eye. And I'm caught in between.
Deanne is the jealous type of friend, which I think is so highschoolish. Deanne and I've been together since Day 1. She's more than a ciggy bud. She actually pampers me and makes sure that I have something to eat because she knows that I'm DM. She sees me like her long lost sibling from the past.
As with Ella, I started to be close to her after days and days of being taught by her regarding a certain skill at work. We would have lunch together and sometimes go out after work. I would even drop her near her home.
When Deanne learned about this, she saw it differently. And she even confronted me about it. She, along with two other female colleagues, told me that Ella had this thing for me.
I told them that they were being foolish and that we never talked about funny stuff.
But they insisted they were right and that I should watch out for her. When I asked them how come they were so sure about Ella, they stunningly chorused:
Becaaaaause we are women! Maarte din kami!
Man, that just shut me up.
Yesterday, days after not talking to Ella, I gave in to her invite to accompany her for a quick meal after work.
And I felt weird because I made sure that Deanne didn't know about it so she wouldn't give me ze crazy look.
So over her microwaved pasta in a box and a can of diet soda, Ella and I talked about personal matters. There were no extra-special talks as usual. If she would take my hand inside the office and drag me to the water station or the pantry, or take my right arm and lean against it, or lightly brush my chin or cheek with her finger, or greet me the moment she walks in the office, or beckon me to make a short stop to her cubicle, or tell me that she misses me - all occasionally - I AM absolutely certain there is nothing to be worried about. No big fuss.
I am old for this kind of stuff.
* * *
Deanne saw me and Ella walk back to the office yesterday. Of course, she gave me ze crazy look. Despite this, I had breakfast with Deanne yesterday.
Her treat.
And then she used me as her chauffeur to conduct business that same morning.
My friendships with women - it could be a predicament.
* * *
I woke up at about 1 in the afternoon, just when Pauline entered. She saw me sprawled in my office attire.
Disappointed, she said:
Dumating na lang ako, di mo pa rin kinain yung hotdog!
I blinked once, looked at her, deciphered whether I was awake, found my voice and spoke faintly:
Paki-init na lang sa microwave. Nakatulog kasi ako.
She walked toward the breakfast table, silently took the cold plate. Before she exited I spoke again:
Pahingi naman ako ng isang baso ng max.
She answered with authority:
Di pwede! Bawal sayo ang sopdrinks. Kagagaling mo lang sa sakit!
I protested and actually felt like saying: Wait a minute. I've been working hard. I think I deserve even just 1 glass of pepsi max.
But of course I didn't say that. I charmed my way and asked again to be kindly served what I wanted. And that worked.
In my household, it's pretty hard to argue with a nanny who's trained by a special woman in my life to oversee my health.
* * *
kids should know that...
Takeru Kobayashi is the world's fastest hot dog eater. In 2002 he beat his previous record by one half of a hot dog, consuming 50.5 Nathan's famous hot dogs in 12 minutes. On July 4, 2006 he set a new record when he ate 53.75 in the same amount of time. (wikipedia)
