Within A Month!
The other day, I was out doing errands. I must have gone to three different plazas to buy things from at least 2 stores at each one. At some point, I realized that whenever I took a step, it sounded like one of my flipflops was making a shuffling/scraping sound. I figured it was just the asphalt, but eventually, it started to trigger my misophonia, so I got to the car, and looked at the bottom of my shoe. Stuck to the underside of my flipflop was a bright neon green sticky note. It was slightly crumpled up. I unfolded it, and it said: “One month from July 25th”. That was all.
And I was like, what kind of message from the universe is THIS??!! I didn’t know whether I should be feeling optimistic or terrified. And I have an entire month to wonder about this and anticipate either the best, or the WORST August 25 in existence. According to my google calendar, that’s a Sunday, and so far, I have nothing on. I plan to keep it that way. On August 25th, you’ll find me huddled under the covers in my bedroom, listening for the sound of a fuselage that has snapped off an airplane and is heading for my roof. Why? Because my bedroom is the safest place I can think of to be, but I’ve also seen Donnie Darko, and I’m the Queen of Worst Case Scenarios.
Then I also thought about the person who WROTE the note, and what wonderful or terrible thing they were anticipating when they scribbled down this dire, and very vague prediction. Because if it was supposed to be a reminder, it’s a sh*tty one:
The phone rings…
Person 1: Where the hell are you?!
Person 2: In bed, why?
Person 1: Because it’s August 25! THE 25TH! One months to the day we first met! I’m standing here surrounded by 80 of our closest friends and family and you’re a no-show! Your parents are FURIOUS.
Person 2: My parents are there?!
Person 1: Who do you think paid for the whole thing?? Your dad keeps telling everyone that you’d forget your own name if it wasn’t written on your forehead.
Person 2: Yeah, that tattoo really hurt.
Person 1: Did you even try to remember? Did you write it down?!
Person 2: I put it on a sticky note…but then I lost the note.
Person 2: The wedding is off, BOB! (hangs up)
Person 1: Dang.
Personally, I can’t remember to do things I wrote down TWO days ago, let alone thirty. In fact, earlier this week, Ken asked me if I had anything on in the morning because he remembered I’d written something on the calendar in the kitchen. I looked and it said, “Clock.” And I didn’t have the faintest idea what that meant (although I certainly had high hopes), until I looked at my google calendar where I had typed in Chuck. Chuck is our travel agent and I was supposed to see him that morning. I was minorly let down because Chuck is, obviously and sadly, not a clock.
Anyway, the days will keep counting down until August 25. I’m sure there’s a wonderfully spooky story in there somewhere, just waiting to be told, but first I have to get through the next month. And if you don’t hear from me that Sunday, you’ll know why…
