You and me both
I am still recuperating from my high school reunion weekend. At the drugstore checkout counter today (Wednesday), the cashier cheerily ended our transaction with “Have a nice weekend!”
“Thank you,” I replied without hesitation.
As soon as she realized what she had said, she apologized. “Oh, no,” I assured her, “I am READY for the weekend!”
“You and me both,” she said. “You and me both.”
I regaled some of my co-workers with details of the overwhelming reunion weekend and confided that I had led a rather dissipated life from Friday through Sunday, staying up until 3 am two nights in a row. It amused me that they took this to mean something “untoward” must have happened -- I mean, if one was middle-aged and was voluntarily staying up until 3 am, SOMETHING must have happened.
My definition of dissipation was much tamer and involved staying up FAR too late talking, drinking lots of red wine, and eating red meat two nights in a row. I feel like I have gout and that I must look like Teddy Kennedy.
Middle-aged people are definitely NOT meant to stay up until 3 am. While you can reminisce about the things you did in high school, you cannot DO the same things and function the next day in a productive manner. Stay up until 3 am two nights in a row, and you are REALLY asking for trouble. Stay up until midnight the third night, and well….
I would pay money to be able to take a nice long nap right now.
My mind is still whirling from the conversations and images and interactions of the weekend. I need to process it all, but I don’t have time in my regular life to do so. Life goes on, kids have homework and quizzes and after school sports and activities and orthodontist appointments. And they keep eating all the food in the house and generating tons of dirty laundry. And then they do things like get injured in football practice and scare the bejesus out of you and you have to take off work, which you really are not supposed to do, to take them to the doctor’s to make sure they haven’t broken their back or their hip or their pelvis and then you have to go to the drugstore to pick up their painkillers and muscle relaxants. And listen to frazzled cashiers wish you a nice weekend when it is only Wednesday but you appreciate their sentiment because you actually wish it already was the weekend so maybe you could catch your breath before you have to do still more laundry, go grocery shopping yet again, and attend even more football games.
Rah, rah, ray!
“Thank you,” I replied without hesitation.
As soon as she realized what she had said, she apologized. “Oh, no,” I assured her, “I am READY for the weekend!”
“You and me both,” she said. “You and me both.”
I regaled some of my co-workers with details of the overwhelming reunion weekend and confided that I had led a rather dissipated life from Friday through Sunday, staying up until 3 am two nights in a row. It amused me that they took this to mean something “untoward” must have happened -- I mean, if one was middle-aged and was voluntarily staying up until 3 am, SOMETHING must have happened.
My definition of dissipation was much tamer and involved staying up FAR too late talking, drinking lots of red wine, and eating red meat two nights in a row. I feel like I have gout and that I must look like Teddy Kennedy.
Middle-aged people are definitely NOT meant to stay up until 3 am. While you can reminisce about the things you did in high school, you cannot DO the same things and function the next day in a productive manner. Stay up until 3 am two nights in a row, and you are REALLY asking for trouble. Stay up until midnight the third night, and well….
I would pay money to be able to take a nice long nap right now.
My mind is still whirling from the conversations and images and interactions of the weekend. I need to process it all, but I don’t have time in my regular life to do so. Life goes on, kids have homework and quizzes and after school sports and activities and orthodontist appointments. And they keep eating all the food in the house and generating tons of dirty laundry. And then they do things like get injured in football practice and scare the bejesus out of you and you have to take off work, which you really are not supposed to do, to take them to the doctor’s to make sure they haven’t broken their back or their hip or their pelvis and then you have to go to the drugstore to pick up their painkillers and muscle relaxants. And listen to frazzled cashiers wish you a nice weekend when it is only Wednesday but you appreciate their sentiment because you actually wish it already was the weekend so maybe you could catch your breath before you have to do still more laundry, go grocery shopping yet again, and attend even more football games.
Rah, rah, ray!
posted by delta at 4:36 PM
2 Comments:
Nonsense. You don't look anything like Ted Kennedy.
Ethel....maybe.....
also, hope the boy is all right?
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