Well it's a whole new day. They just keep coming don't they? I don't know if I mentioned it yet or not, but the registers at my work have been intimidating me on a daily basis for two whole weeks now, that is, until a few nights ago, when I walked in to work and saw a teenager standing there, all dressed up spiffy and introducing himself to me. He works at the same store but a different location, and for some reason the powers-that-be sent him over to hang out at our store for the evening. Anyway my point is, he's only been there as long as I have, and he treated the registers like toys, with no fear or hesitation whatsoever. He owned them. I watched in envy and awe as he casually worked the keys as if there were no thinking involved at all. And it doesn't stop there. I told him my difficulties understanding the wretched P.O.S. system (a computerized form of hell), and he laughed and said, why? Look! Look it's fun. You can do whatever you want. As he said this, he showed me how to go exploring in this black and green matrix of confusion, and I actually slowly became a little bit interested. He said, The whole thing is laid out for you, look, it tells you what to do at the bottom of each screen. I looked. He was right. I never saw that. He also worked his way into the innerds of the system and showed me how to look up all kinds of things that I really don't care to know, but he seemed to think it was really cool. Watching him made me completely let go of my fear and it totally changed my entire outlook. And so last night I had nothing but fun at work. And I'm totally looking forward to it again tonight. You just don't know. I have trouble thinking fast enough, on the spot, especially when a customer is standing right there. Take last night for example. A woman came in and wanted to switch out two bottles of Bee Pollen for two bottles of Bee Propolis. They were the same price and I didn't know how to do an exchange so I just did it, and let her go, thinking I could adjust the inventory in the system afterwards. But no. Come to find out, we don't even carry the Bee Pollen that she brought in. Even though it was our brand. I have no idea where she got it. So I stuck the bottles on the manager's desk along with a sticky note explaining what I did. It's ok cause I'm new. I can still get away with these things. But what I'm saying is, wait. What am I saying? Nevermind.
The cat is sitting here beside me on the ledge of the couch like she always does each morning, and she just did the gross thing that I can't stand: that ear-scratching thing, where you can see debris scuffing everywhere into the air. Right beside my tea. There's no telling what animals put into the atmosphere when they scratch themselves. Animals grooming themselves is one thing I cannot stand to witness. The very worst sound known to mankind (apart from accidentally hitting a springy doorstop) is a cat or a dog gnawing on their fur. Or rather, the sound of licking. I detest it. My old dog Jemma would gnaw and lick and even chew, and she knew I hated it, I would just go "no" in a very nice voice and look at her, and she'd put her ears back and slink out of the room and do her grooming in private. I truly believe animals should be trained to clean themselves in a private location. Anyway now I have to get a new cup of tea since the cat just contaminated it.
My ex is getting a divorce and so I've been more of a friend to him lately. I need to make sure he keeps his head above water and keeps laughing. Our spawn is living with him therefore it's in everyone's best interest that he stay happy. He seems to be made happy by remembering our joke of a marriage. We can laugh for long periods of time about it. They could make a sitcom out of it. For real. It was the strangest arrangement. Now that time has passed and we're old and wise, we can look back and make light of everything. The things I used to feel guilty about have somehow morphed into the very things that make him laugh the hardest. Thank God. Finally I'm being let off the hook.
He told me yesterday that one thing stands out in his mind about our marriage and it can be summed up in this one memory of his: (that I had completely forgotten about)- he said he'll never forget the time he came home and saw paint splattered across the barrell of his rifle, which was leaning in the corner of the room. He said when he saw it, he told me to please stop splatter painting in the house, and my reply was, you shouldn't have left your gun out in the line of fire. He said that I was a "mastermind at turning tables." I don't see how that's turning tables. It's true. You're not supposed to leave guns out anyway. But about turning tables. I don't see it that way. I see it as me being responsible for bringing truth to light and showing the flip side to things. It's a talent that I've honed carefully over the years and I think it comes from having to deal with my older sister from a very young age.
I'm learning things about myself just by listening to my ex's take on things. He's opened up and talking. Saying things I never knew he thought. Now I'm wondering if I really do turn tables. He said the paint on the gun thing in his mind summed up everything to him. And it's funny cause the paint was all me and the gun was all him. Two different viewpoints, one home. How does marriage work, anyway? The more I think about it the more baffled I become. I am beginning to think the only way to do it with no trouble is to go ahead and get a frontal lobotomy.
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