My argument with T at the end of the day really left me feeling bereft. Usually we are pretty much in sync and to disagree so strongly on such an important subject as the H/V roundtables was very upsetting.
The "new" me who came out of the ashes of the Rose leaves her concerns about work behind and when the car turns towards home, her psyche turns towards peace and contentment. Not today. The incident replayed in my mind, even as I tried to listen to NPR. I knew I was in trouble.
I tried prayer: it was interrupted by the movie reel in my head. I tried concentrating on what had to be done when I got home: the words hurled at me were still reverbrating in my brain. I began to resent this job that could encroach on my world.
I picked up the mail, and found a fat envelope from Burpee in the box. That cheered me momentarily. At least I was able to sort out what had to be done as soon as I got home, to enable me to get to my 5:30 meeting on time. I creaked out of the car, and groaned up the stairs.
Quickly, I washed the green peppers and got them into the microwave to begin the cooking process so I could stuff them. Then, still ruminating over the scene that closed my day at work, I opened the hall door. I didn't expect to find anything in the hall, even though I had been awaiting a package for several days. I just looked out of habit.
And there, standing in the middle of the hall, was a box almost as big as I. I dragged it into the living room. It was from "Chef's". My cobalt blue ever-so-long, longed-for Kitchen Aid mixer! Wow!
The microwave dinged; I put it on for three more minutes while I opened the box. Styrofoam peanuts. Shoot. As soon as I put a hand in the box, about a gazillion jumped from their bed onto my sleeves, then my skirt, then the floor...
The microwave dinged. Darn. I tried sweeping the peanuts off my sleeves and hands. They clung like leeches. I had to get those green peppers stuffed and into the oven fast, if I was to make my meeting. I dashed out to the kitchen, leaving a trail of peanuts behind me.
Stuffing as fast as I could, I got those green babies into the oven. There! 10 minutes to get at my present to myself. I got a couple plastic shopping bags and my omelet pan, and scooped those unruly peanuts out of the box, enough of them to lug and tug at the inside box. The stupid thing weighed almost as much as I do. What in the world?
I got the inside box out with 5 minutes to spare. I carried the peanut-covered box in my arms into the kitchen, dripping those styrofoam monsters all through the living room. They not only were growing, but I was now convinced they were also alive. Vainly, I tried to scrape them off me, at least. I had a brilliant thought (it's about time!), and I am going to sell it to Heloise; I got a dryer sheet and rubbed in all over my hands. It worked, and I was freed of the pernicious peanuts, or at least my hands were.
So I finally got the gleaming, cobalt blue, HEAVY DUTY Kitchen Aid that I have longed for since I was married, out of the box, out of its shrinked-wrapped styrofoam blocks, and, huffing and puffing, up onto the counter. (!?) It's bigger than my kitchen! My idea, when I ordered it, was to put it on one of my beautiful new Swedish shelves in the pantry, and bring it out when I need to knead.
Well, I'm here to tell you, when Kitchen Aid says something is heavy duty, it is HEEAAVVYY DUTY, so it is now permanently ensconced on my kitchen counter, in all it's gleaming cobalt beauty. I sincerely hope I can move it enough to wipe off the counter beneath it when I have to. I love the cobalt blue. It's a good thing I do. I hope I always do! Because it's there for good. Not because it's too expensive to ever hope to replace, but because I CAN'T MOVE THE DAMN THING!!
Oh yes...T who?
A New Adventure