eRamblings

About two weeks ago I got in a car accident that broke my right wrist. I have been living with my parents ever since. I am so grateful to have them in my life. They have handled so much. I don’t know how they do it. My friends are shocked when I tell them how much my parents have done for me. My dad has been on the phone with countless doctors, insurance agents and fmla for work not to mention driving me around and basically taking care of me all day long. My mother has been using up her free time helping me function as well - showers and all the things you don’t consider until you can’t do them.

It is so frustrating.

I can’t shower by myself (although I have mastered all but washing the one good arm).

I can’t do my hair. I am not vain. I can wear sweat and no make-up, but if I am having a bad hair day it affects me.

Recently I figured out how to dress myself. Have you ever had to put on pants and have someone else button them; tie them - every time?

I can’t really make food or clean dishes.

I can’t drive which means very little freedom.

I can’t work so I rest - which is what I am supposed to be doing, but it is really hard.

I can’t fold clothes, work plastic baggies. You name it. Everything is effort. Everything takes so much longer to do and if I try to push it I screw it up more.

I can’t write legibly. I can barely type.

I am so frustrated with it all. I feel like an invalid. I feel like a deep burden. I feel like I have no real purpose; no focus. It is so hard for me.

I am constantly asking for help. Though I knew it was hard for me, this has been agony.

Everyone has a story - trust me I can’t go anywhere without each person asking me what happened and then proceeding to tell me theirs.

No one mentions the pain. The constant throbbing pain deep in the bone from my fingers all the way up to my elbow; and on occasion my shoulder, neck and ear. My fingers are numb, but tingle with pain. I hate this. My fingers feel so foreign to me. I can’t find a comfortable position to lay my arm. It is so awful. The splint (instead of cast) feels like it cuts off circulation. I can only bend my elbow so far. I spend so much time adjusting my arm just to be able to relax.

And yet I keep reminding myself how lucky I am. I am alive. I wasn’t severely hurt. Insurance is covered. The other guy admitted fault and their insurance will take care of me too. I can take time off, heal and still get paid (sort of). My family has been there every step of the way and put their lives on hold for me; to help me.  My friends call all the time. I am so lucky.

Occasionally I just want to scream. To stop and throw a tantrum. The frustration of not being able to do anything on my own is overwhelming.

I remember my niece being so upset when we would go bowling because she had to roll the ball instead of throw it like all the adults did. No matter how heavy that bowling ball was, no matter how much it hurt to bowl - she would get up the energy and strength and throw that damn ball just so she wasn’t different. I know how she felt.

Last Tuesday I was about a half hour early for work. I had been talking about loooking at getting my own phone plan and upgrading my cell as well. Seemed like a perfect quick outing. I spent maybe fifteen minutes talking to the sales guy. As I was leaving I called my dad to tell him what I had found out and to ask him if he would accompany me Sat back to the store to complete the process. We joked back and forth about needing mom’s permission to make changes to our phone accounts and then hung up.

I was currently sitting in the right hand turn lane behind a couple other cars waiting for the green light. We started moving. I turned the corner and took my foot off the gas as I realized we were merging into one lane due to construction. As I entered the intersection, out of nowhere this white van turns left right in front of me. I slam on my breaks even though I know in that moment I am going to hit this guy. In a last ditch effort I decide to turn the wheel to the left hoping to skid by him. And this is my mistake and my savior. My right front plows into this van like we are doing a hundred on the freeway not barely twenty. My air bag goes off which sends my left arm flying. I see smoke and immediately my brain yells at me to get  out of the car. I struggle to unhook my seatbelt, but it takes a few tries to unlatch, as well as my door. I leap out of my car and stand there breathing a sigh of relief that I am safe – only to look down and realize my right arm is a tangled mess.

My right wrist is obviously broken. A scream wrenches my body. And tingles run through my arm that make me think I may pass out.

Some guy in a uniform approaches me asks me if I’m okay. I tell him my wrist hurts. He ushers me to the sidewalk. I sit down trying not to move or look at my arm. I am whimpering and in more pain than I can fathom. I realize I need to call someone. I yell to that guy, Can you get me my cell phone out of the car please? It’s on the front passenger seat. When he brings it over I thank him in between sobs. He tell

s me an ambulance has been called which gives me brief relief because I know my pain will be over soon.

“Daddy? I’ve been in a car accident. Can you come help me?” I sob into the phone.

“Are you serious?” He asks me in disbelief.

“Yes daddy. I broke my wrist. Please. It hurts.” He swings into action, reassuring me and telling me he is on his way. I hang up. The phone falls loosely to my side. My strength weakening. I am starting to loose consciousness. I can feel it. I tell myself to think. What else do I need to do? Call work. Not coming in.

I immediately dial work. One of the fitting room girls, one of the girls I work with picks up the phone. I take a deep breath in hopes they don’t ask me if I’m okay. I’ll loose it. I ask for the Manager and I wait for what seems like hours. I can hear myself mumbling , “please, pick up the phone, pick up the phone …. it hurts, my wrist … oh how it hurts … pick up the phone”. It starts ringing, but rings back to the fitting room. I can’t wait any longer. I tell the girl as calmly as I can thst I have just been in a car accident; I broke my wrist; and I can’t make it to work.

She asks me if I am okay and I loose it. Tears pour from me, my body starts to shake and I ramble as I cry. My wrist hurts. I broke my wrist. Dear god it hurts.

She breaks in and tells me take a deep breath. She knows it hurts, but she needs me to calm down. Breath Heidi. Please take a couple of deep breaths.

Finally my lungs open and I am able to calm down enough to breath.

She asks me to tell her what happened. I tell her with intermitten “my wrist hurts”. Each time she soothes me and then has me continue. She tells me to take pictures with my cell phone. I tell her my dad will. He’s on the way. The ambulance is on the way. And as I look up the fire truck pulls up. I tell her I am tired and my wrist hurts. She tells me it’s going to be okay. I tell her I am going to hang up because the ambulance is here.

Today was a long ass day. Started work at 5am and didn’t leave until almost 4pm.

I actually clocked out at 2:30pm, but as I was walking out one the supervisors asked me to clock back in because we were having a meeting. Uhm, okay. I informed them that I was already one hour overtime which is a big no no at work. They said I could cut from the rest of the week. Okay. Again with the “we really don’t recommend that you do that” crap, but whatever. You’re the boss.

Personally I would rather work four ten hour days. Even just every Monday I wouldn’t mind working a good fourteen hour day. It is my favorite day of the week. Yes, you heard me right. I love Mondays. That is the one day I get to get down and dirty in my work areas. I walk through and make a list of all the things that need to get done during the week - folding, sizing, colorizing, signing, etc. I get to rearrange all the clothes (which I love) and put them wherever I want. I get to crack out a million projects (which I love) like working tables, sizing the clearance, putting up signs, pulling clothes from back stock (which means I get to work the really cool machines in back), and all other stuff I can’t remember right now. I get to do some serious damage to the crap that gets thrown upon my different work areas. When I walk out on Mondays I not only feel like I worked really hard, but I can actually see a big difference. It is very liberating. Especially when the rest of the week I pretty much just work like a dog.

Tuesdays are a little less exciting. I pretty much walk in to see all the things that happen in less than eight hours. The eight hours after I leave. The group of people who mark down all the clothes have usually gone through and moved it all around to the wrong location. And though they are kind enough to pull all the merchandise that wasn’t on sale, but in the sale area they just throw it into a cart for me to sort through. The people who unload the trucks and put out the new clothes generally shove it all on the shelves in a manner so unbecoming no matter how many times I work with them and tell them where to put product. The people who closed the night before and were supposed to put every thing back in the correct place, didn’t and I get to fix it all. I also hit the back stock again, just to fill in where things got remerchandised into clearance. I am also one of the managers that night so I am in charge of half the store for the night.

Thursdays I tie up loose ends and read through the coming weekend ad that goes out in every Sunday paper. You know all those little signs that say Sale $9.99? I get those in my mailbox, put them in the clear sign holders, check them off some massive list and then stack them in the office. At least the ones for my area and those of my peers who happened to go on vacation that week. When I work Saturday night, we take down all the signs from the weeks ad and on Sunday morning we put up all the new ones. Kind of a pain, but also really cool to see the process happen.

Fridays I pretty much tie up the things that didn’t get done during the week on my weekly list. This is also the day I venture out of my work areas and help my peers. This is good because I get to add each of them to my “you owe me help” list. Which I rarely collect on, but I feel is a needed benefit. It also looks good to my bosses.

Amidst all of this I am also back up cashiering, helping push product that was sold and pulled from the back to be filled, assisting the fitting room in breaks and whatever else is needed (supplies, etc), helping customers, assisting the group of people who set up some of the areas planned that I don’t work on, but are in my areas, training other people, answering phone calls and a hog podge of other stuff.

I am in charge of the entire women’s clothing area, work out clothes, sleepwear, bras and underwear and the jewerly and accessories area. All of which has to be perfectly sized, colorized and stylized each day. It has to be signed and labeled appropriately. New stuff has to be placed in the right area and processed through the computers. Old stuff has to be remerchandised to clearance. There are at least six different types of hangers and some even has bags of stuff (which let me tell you how many people have to open up a package just to see that the picture on the outside really is what is inside even if the packaging is clear). I love the customers who take clothes off the hangers then throw it on top of the rack or the ones that drag a handful to the mirror then leave it there or the ones that drop stuff on the floor and leave it. Seriously, I don’t expect people to fold clothes and whatnot, but have a little respect for the blue collared worker.

It is kind of crazy and yet there is an order to it all.

This morning within an hour of work I had pinched my finger in a shelf, bled from a nasty cardboard cut, smacked my head on a shelf and dropped a metal bar on my ankle. Granted I am definitely a clutz, but this was a very dangerous morning. I also had to pull 10 shelves down using a 10 foot ladder and the entire time I was picturing myself falling down, landing on the concrete. All I could think was I hope they bring the ambulance staff in the back because I don’t want anyone to laugh at me for being so stupid as to fall off the ladder.

And then this song was playing in my head later. But I changed one word from world to work. I used to be one of those woman who wanted to do it all simply because I never wanted to be accused of being weak, but today I really wanted to say “This is a man’s work” because I was hefting these huge, heavy shelves from a shelf way up high, down a tall ladder and then arranging them in slots on a wall only to unload boxes of folded shirts on them. By the end (three of these tables), I was exhausted. Now I have reached a stage in my life where I have no problem standing back and letting the muscles do all the work. I know I could do it if I wanted, but screw that. I am perfectly comfortable letting others handle the really heavy shit. You could not pay me enough to do that every day and we have a position that does that, unfortunately it isn’t filled right now which means I am doing it until then.

And now after visiting all my favorite blogs I have been up for over 18 hours today. Time to go to bed or at least try. Seriously loving that I get to sleep in tomorrow. LOVE IT!

I am seriously tired. This is my working weekend, meaning I am in hell. Although not complete hell as it isn’t my closing weekend, just opening. So it really could be worse. Especially since the holiday season is coming up and then I won’t be getting out til after midnight. And it isn’t works fault, but I do place quite a bit of blame on the fact that I work my ass off everyday. Why is that? I mean what happened to make me such a work-aholic? Why can’t I be more of a slacker? Some days, I really envy slackers.

I am only on my fourth day of work hell weekend. I still have two more to go before I get a day off. On the bright side (oh, yeah, there is one) After my day off I only have to work two days before getting two days off - get this - in a row. No shit. I get my next weekend off. I am so excited. And then it is Thanksgiving. And I got so lucky because the Gods must like me. I got both Wednesday and Thursday off that week. I didn’t think I had a chance in hell, but I am also not telling anyone (except the entire blogging world) because heaven forbid someone realize that they made a mistake and schedule me.

Today we were rewarded with an item chargeback - cereal. I love that word - chargeback. I think I am spelling it wrong. But it is basically when the company I work for takes something off the shelf that we sell, fills out some paperwork and then we get to use it, eat it or whatever. It is ours. This morning we were rewarded with cereal for everyone clocking in and out of work the entire week without screw ups. No small feat for over 300 people. And yes, we are losers as this rarely ever happens. I could not have been happier. My first fifteen minute break I ate cereal. My lunch, I went back and took the box of cereal, a bowl and spoon back to the table and continued to pour bowl after bowl til I was full. And you know it takes a lot of cereal to make a belly full. They should have just got the pasta bowls. But that we can work on next time. Yes?

Please do me a favor, k? Do not go into a store and ask them to change out a watch battery for a $300+ watch if they aren’t certified in doing so. Go to a real jeweler. Someone qualified. It really doesn’t matter that we sell watch batteries and yes, we can pop the back off and replace it. If we have it in stock because if we break it - and I have broken one already - we must be able to replace it. I cannot replace an $800 Ann Klein watch, a $3000 Tag watch. Really we don’t do that. And standing there throwing a fit telling me that you swear you won’t sue me if I break it, really doesn’t help the cause of you not throwing a fit when I do break it. And let me tell you, the child in me really REALLY wants to get you to sign some affidavit saying you won’t sue me if I break it, then I am going straight back and breaking it. Just because.

Oh and another thing. If you see your kid bending down to pick up an item of clothing that fell on the floor (or they knocked it on the floor), please do not stop them, look at me and then point saying, “Oh honey leave it. That’s her job.” Makes me want to beat your face in. Good parenting, that is not.

I made pot roast, rice and steamed veggies (squash and red peppers) the other night and have been living off them. Very happily I might add. I have had a toasted roast sandwich with melted cheese, a big fat burrito and made a nice piece of chicken to go with the extra rice and veggies I had left. I am wondering when, if ever, I might get tired of these leftovers, but they just don’t taste like leftovers. In fact, it is SO incredibly nice to have a home cooked meal that really didn’t require much effort. I think that should be a selling feature of the Crock Pot - for the multitasker; cooking free, effort free.

I am having an internal struggle. One of my coworks who I have developed a nice friendship with is in pain. His girlfriend broke up with him a couple of days ago. He won’t talk about it. Fine. He won’t accept any kind of hug or words of affirmation. I would apologize but I have nothing to do with it. So basically I get to see his pain from afar and I can’t really do anything about it. I feel for him. I mean it is completely up to him to deal with his emotions and he is entitled to be feeling sad, but it kills me to see him so hurt. And I can’t do anything about it. I am a crappy friend too because occasionally I just want to slap him and say, “knock it off”. I just want him to get over it so we can get back to being friends and having good times, but I remind myself to be patient and let him feel whatever he needs to feel. This is actually great practice for me. I am working on giving him time to deal with his emotions meanwhile I am working on not taking it personally, not pushing him up in a corner to force it out of him and also not turning it around and making it about me. My therapist would be so proud. lol

I was over at Blogher reading up on Chris’ post and it got me thinking. What are my families traditions? Do we really have any? What do we do every single year to get ready for the holiday? It took a minute, but there is one.

Every year, we all get together to pull out the Christmas decorations and put up the tree. My mother sits on the floor and rummages through the never ending boxes and tubs that literally are all over the place when finally pulled from the garage. She pulls out each and every one of the ornaments and we all join in on telling the stories of where they came from, who made them and what occurred during that year. It is excruciatingly painful and yet, I am always sad when it is over. I love that we do this every year.

We have ornaments from when we were very little. You know, the ones that are missing eyes, the ones that have half my name erased off, the ones that have pictures glued on. The ornaments that we made together as a family. The funky reindeer cone holder with a ribbon as a handle. The clear paint on ornaments meant to be hung in the window. Ornaments with fuzzy balls, glitter that has turned off yellow. I love the ones that we pull out the box and we cannot for the life of us remember a thing about them, but the fact that the design or the way they were put together tells us who made them.

Granted my dad is usually cussing at the damn fake tree because it won’t go up as easily as it did the year before. My sister will be on the phone, watching tv or on the computer trying to tune us out. The dogs are running around like maniacs getting into everything. One of my cats is usually crawling into a wreath or chewing on a branch. My niece is fawning over her little 4″ tree, the Beanie Baby ornaments and the fact that the tree topper is so big that the tree tilts to the side a bit. I am normally in the background taking it all in. Watching and observing.

All of these memories/traditions happened way before life ever started for my sister and I. They falter as I get older. They are few and far between. Now, we both have our lives to deal with, families to take care of. But each and every year we get together in some fashion to decorate the tree as a family.

I wouldn’t trade this one thing at this time of the year for anything. It used to drive me nuts, but now I miss it when we are all away living our lives. It may be very dysfunctional, but to me it is family. And family is what we are living for during the holidays.

The original Scrooge has officially put up her Christmas Tree. That’s right. My tree is not only up, but decorated too. Even I can’t believe it.

I was shopping at Target this weekend with my mother and they had this incredibly awesome deal on a 6.5″ Fake Pine with multicolored lights for only $69.99. Way too good of a deal to pass up. I was planning on spending $100 on my fake tree, but really expecting to pay more. So I bought it up quickly before it went out of stock. When I got home I was in such a cheery mood I decided to go ahead put it up and decorate it. It looks all Santa Claus-y. The skirt is fuzzy red with a white fuzzy trim and I bought matching red ribbon with white fuzz edging to use as garland. The few ornaments I bought are all pretty sparkly and have fuzz on them too. I just love it. I didn’t find a tree topper that I liked, but after decorating it I decided that a santa hat would be perfect. I also went ahead and put up the kitties stockings and my own.

My family is in complete awe. I am not much of a Christmas girl or at least I haven’t been in the past years. I am assuming that being in retail for more than 12 years has put a bit of a scrooge in me about xmas music since they play it for almost two months straight. I haven’t agreed with all the awful commercial pushing of gifts, money and greed that I feel happens during this time of year. Not to mention I don’t think you should put much emphasis on one day of the year - for any reason. If you love something or someone you should celebrate them every day of the year. No holiday excuse needed.

This year I am going to do it all my way. Light and easy on the gifts and more about the spirit of it all. I am going to bake and listen to carols; watch all the wonderful old classics and just enjoy the warmth of it all. I have invited a couple of friends from work to join my family during the season because they have no where to go. I just want to fill my life with those around me who add to the happiness and peace I am feeling.

It seems like in the past couple of weeks about 90% of the time I am feeling so completely and utterly at peace. Truly happy. Content. No worries. No anxieties. To the point where I am not over analyzing, over thinking, over feeling. In fact I find myself not thinking anything. Simply breathing. Just plain peaceful.

And then every once in awhile, like tonight, I am filled with a million thoughts. Almost like I am making up for lost time. Or maybe it just seems like it because I can’t remember how I dealt with all these emotions and feelings before.

Tonight I feel unsure of myself. Uneasy. I question everything.

The complete opposite of how I feel most of the time lately.

I am living out of my comfort zone, but it is so comfortable to be at peace that I don’t care until the moment I am back down from it all.

I think I am in transition; like I am reprogramming myself to not worry, to not over do anything. Just learning to live in the moment. It is so incredibly freeing to live in the second. I feel like I taste every little morsel of life. At times I really feel like a cat purring. Oddly refreshing.

Could someone please call my chef and tell him if he doesn’t get his lazy ass to the market that I am so firing his ass?

For the past three days I have been living off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cereal. Help me. I so need to shop for food. Obviously it hasn’t been that big of a deal because, well, I haven’t bought any new food in about a week, but seriously something has to give. I wander over to my fridge in need of nourishment and stand there admiring the probably bad by now leftovers and few remnants of real food which consist of egg (only one left), cheese slices, ham slices, some frozen stuff that has been frozen for so long I actually can’t remember what it was and miscellaneous drinks.

It’s bad.

And while you’re at it, can you tell my cleaning lady she is also on notice?

My place is in need of a small overhaul. I am deeply embarrassed. I have not cleaned in about the same time I haven’t been grocery shopping.

Living the high life I am. Cracks me up.

Today I will be motivated. Today is time to set up some serious kick ass music that reverberates through the walls only to grab the yellow gloves and start cleaning every filthy corner of my ghetto style apartment. Not to mention I will be doning a list of food - simple things, but food that will make my mouth water when I open the fridge. I hope anyhow.

I am as we speak, in doing laundry which has piled up to three loads, which for me is unheard of. I really don’t have that much to wash. I am lucky to have two loads every two weeks since that is when I pull all my sheets, towels and such to wash them added to my normal one load of clothes. Yes, I wash everything toether. I don’t sort, though I have learned my lesson the hard way about cleaning out the pockets. I have so much stuff, so much knick knacks and clutter. It is time to get down and dirty and filter through all the choas of piles.

It may very well even be time to check my mailbox. I am not a big fan of walking to my box and getting the mail. Why is it that apartments can’t have boxes at their doors? I mean really is it too much to ask?

Yesterday morning I had my first bouht of nostalgia regarding my canceled paper. I would have loved to read all about the elections and today, I would love to read the outcomes of it all. I am also in dire need of a craft coupon to my local shop. I am thinking today would be a good day to pick up some kits for the annual Christmas ornament that my family partakes in to add to the gifts we give each member on our lists. I figure it would be a good project for my niece and I to do over the next couple of weeks among the many board games she likes to play when she visits me.

Ahh, the holidays right around the corner. We are already full swing in Christmas gear at work. Getting ready to assemble and display Christmas trees which surprisingly with getting a divorce I thought I would prove to be a bit of a Scrooge this year, but alas my mother’s genes seem to be strong because I am jonesin’ for a little Christmas spirit. Can’t wait to build up my very own collection of ornaments and I am really hoping for a real Christmas tree to display and smell in my humble little abode. Can’t wait to hang my stockings on my wall either. Very exciting stuff.