Last night was my first official night of volunteering. I was really nervous because I was afraid they'd put me with the teenagers and teenagers scare me. Mostly because they are all taller than I am but ALSO I was afraid the kids would make fun of me and laugh at me and call me names. Which . . . I know, that's stupid, but I can't help how insecure my brain is. Anyway, I needn't have worried, because no kids showed up. I was very disappointed, especially since I'd driven all the way out there to sit around some church for an hour and a half, but they said this happens every now and then, meaning it WASN'T just that all the kids heard that I was going to be there and so they stayed away.
I am still a bit surprised every time I think about how they're going to let me be in charge of a group of grieving children, especially considering that the last time one of my family members died, we had all the family over, and I didn't eat anything all day but I did consume many, many glasses of wine and also a couple of whisky sours and then I puked and puked my guts out the next day. At my mom and dad's house. CLASSY. Who has two thumbs and knows how to grieve? THIS KID. Yeah, that doesn't really work when you're not saying it out loud but just imagine that I'm pointing my thumbs at myself. Sigh.
CONVERSATION WITH MY ROOMMATE
Me: [blah blah blahing about something]
Heidi: Where'd you get that bruise on your leg?
Me: Oh, I don't know.
Heidi: Wow.
Me: But I think it might be from my desk chair at work.
Heidi: OK?
Me: Cause when I stand up, I kind of shove it out of the way with my leg and the arm of the chair hits me right there on the thigh.
Heidi: You bruise like a peach.
Me: Yeah, I also have this bruise on my arm and I have no idea where it came from.
[conversation continues but I don't remember what we were talking about and then all of the sudden Heidi starts laughing]
Heidi: I'm sorry, I just can't get over that bruise on your leg.
Me: Thanks. Thanks a lot.
I mean, to be fair, it is a pretty big bruise so I guess it's funny. Especially since I don't really know where it came from. Good times.
And since I'm not even trying to make these things make sense anymore, here is a dream I had the other night:
I was driving through a cornfield with someone and for some reason I was driving but it wasn't my car. And the worst part was, the car was a stick and I don't know how to drive a stick so I just left it in one gear and then, obviously, the car broke down because A) I wasn't switching gears, B) we were driving through a cornfield, and C) I don't think the car we were driving was designed for driving through cornfields. So after the car broke down, we got out and opened the hood and he started looking at the steaming engine and he was all, "what gear were you in?" and I was like, "First?" and he was like, "FIRST?! We were going 50 mph!" and I was all, "Yeah, but through CORN, I read somewhere that you're supposed to use first gear when driving through corn," and then he shook his head and I woke up.
That story was almost as interesting as my thigh bruise, but only almost.
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