Every ounce of me
You are so irresistible.
I need you now!!
Image source: Digital Art by A~I.R.B.
Contents compiled: February 10 2017
Originally published: February 10 2017
Copyright © 2016 Inner Ramblings Boulevard
I hid it from myself!
In a hurry to unpack groceries and keep my secret chocolate stash out of sight from the kids (I don’t share my chocolate, it’s my only indulgence — my therapy — my sprinkles), I tossed it to the back of the freezer intending to put it in the proper hiding place once I was alone. Trouble is I forgot all about it for a good week and in effect hid it from myself too. Serves me right for not sharing, I guess, but I’m still not going to. It’s mine, ALL MINE!!!
Let it ring
Avoiding bill collectors is now my new hobby. I let the phone ring if I don’t recognize the number or if it shows up as UNKNOWN. Sometimes it’s from someone important that I should really have spoken to, but heck, that’s what voice-mail is for. If it’s important they will leave a message and I’ll call back.
The balancing act of managing bills is becoming quite burdensome. There simply isn’t enough cash-flow to cover everything. I’ve eliminated ALL unnecessary spending but it has gotten to the point where we are at the wire and I don’t know what else to cut.
I remember when I first chose the ring tone for my phone a year ago. I absolutely loved it and have hardly ever heard it play in its entirety since then because I would usually answer the phone by the 2nd or 3rd ring if close by. But now, I just let it ring and enjoy the music, unless in a crowded room or professional setting where a ringing phone left unanswered is annoying. Ironically, the ringtone is now stuck in my head – an ear-worm of sorts – popping up unexpectedly and giving rise to an occasional chuckle since now it is said ringtone that has begun hounding me in the silent hours when bill collectors have long gone to bed — playing over and over and over in my head! Didn’t see that one coming…
Stuck in a lie
In my teenage years I was always looking forward to being 18, the age of not being told what to do! But in my head I had planned to be employed somehow with funds to accompany and facilitate my age of independence. Sadly, I could not find work so in many ways was still at the mercy of my parents. Oye! So I then began to wish that I was 21 and gone — gone from my perceived prison. With a stroke of luck, due to a promise kept by one of my aunts, I was granted a vacation trip for great grades and that, as it turned out, was my ticket out — I escaped and was then free! However, in my new land of freedom I was still unemployed. It took roughly six months to land a gig, but six months in I was bored (no brain stimulation, no avenues for moving up just an errand girl) and wanted more. The next job I had in my sights had a not-mentioned-out-loud minimum age of 25, so there I was wishing I was indeed 25. The lady at the agency said, “Since you seem to have the perfect stats for this job, just dress yourself a little older when you go to the interview and we could put in your age as 25 and see what happens.” I agreed and landed the job. I was now earning $100 more than the first gig and was feeling pretty good. Problem was I had to remember my new date of birth to go along with my older age. Sometimes I forgot but just made a joke of it and moved on.
By the time I actually got to age 25 I saw no need to be older than that — 30 and beyond seemed old and I wanted nothing to do with that! Besides, thanks to good genes, I always looked younger than my real age and considered that a plus to my quest to remain 25 for as long as possible.
When I hit 30, though, I could no longer pull of 25 for the following reasons:
So I conceded to the laws of nature, adopting and accepting my true age of 30 but vowed to remain 30 for as long as possible.
One would think that by then I would have learned my lesson, but noooo! It seemed a lot more plausible to fight the aging process tooth and nail. Once, when filling out paperwork at the bank or somewhere, I inadvertently left that space blank. So when the representative revised the paperwork, he said, “Oops, you forgot to fill in your age. No worries, I can write it in, just tell me.” I paused for what seemed like an eternity — my mind was blank — I couldn’t remember! Not that I didn’t know my own date of birth, but I had spent so many years not using my real age that it had now come back to bite me. When I finally managed to fumble it out, then told him my funny story to wash away my embarrassment, he said squint-eyed, “May I see your ID?” Clearly he wasn’t buying my story. I was horrified! I’ve since learned my lesson, but now have this awesome, sanity-questioning story to share with my kids which I’m sure will be told at my funeral as a fantastic eulogy! Oh well, no bother, I’ll be the dead person in the casket laughing her butt off no longer able to fight nature, time or age — Irony at it’s best! ^_^
Read Related Post: Little Ironies — Part 1
Image source: Google images (medicalhumour.wordpress.com)
[I hid it from myself! — Written: March 7 2015. Edited March 11 2015]
[Let it ring — Written March 8 2015. Edited March 11 2015]
[Stuck in a lie — Written March 11 2015]
Originally published: March 15 2016 | Copyright © 2015 – 2016 Moylom Enterprises