s i c k
t r a p p e d
f r o z e n
s h r e d d e d
s h r u n k e n
....adjectives for the first week of my new year
However, it was nothing out of the ordinary for MAZ.
I fought some sort of virus, lasting 10 days, with a new, surprising gift of a symptom each day. It was exhausting and frustrating but I won. I always win..
On my first site visit of the new year, I was faced with surviving one of my biggest fears.
I entered a worksite female toilet closet, which is almost always used as the male dump room because there are usually no females....until I show up.
I held my breath, hovered in mid air so as not to touch a thing, and chanted to ward off all grossness.
Once I completed my task, I unlocked the door and turned the knob.
Chooka chooka chook...
The door would not open.
For the next 5 minutes, I turned the lock back and forth as I tried to open the door.
I began to think through the simple steps of exiting a bathroom with a flimsy door that would not open...
There had to be a simple step that I was forgetting...
My hovering abilities began to disappear the longer my hand was on the doorknob.
I could feel the walls closing around me.
On this 30 degree weather day, a sweat broke out across my body as the anxiety grew.
Steam began to fog my glasses and added volume to my already wild hair.
'What if the guys are right outside the door and laughing because I am pulling instead of pushing...or locking instead of unlocking...or they are holding the knob to tease me...'
My thoughts spun into chaotic unhelpful problem solving skills....
'What if the guys are not in this trailer and I am stuck in here...which one do I call to come help me out of here....oh crap- I don't have my phone!'
I knew I needed to take a deep breath and think, but I feared a deep breath would draw the skin of disgust closer to my body. With my humidity induced frizz, I was positive the skin would connect with my hair, forming a glue, securing my stay in the dirty public restroom....my biggest phobia!
After what seemed hours, but hopefully was a few minutes, I noticed the lock catch in the door frame was not in place.
I used my foot and hand to move the frame away from the door (very flimsy) and escaped my crapper prison.
Wiping sweat from my brow and using both hands to reign my hair back to my skull, I looked to my left.
4 grinning males stood with coffee in hands and grins on their lips-
"You stuck, Ms. Margaret?"
I'm guessing there was not a smile on my lips when my passionate feeling of panic-turned-anger hung on my face.
They each had a varying expression of slight fear until I replied,
"YOU HAVE BEEN STANDING HERE LISTENING TO ME TRYING TO GET OUT?"
no matter how scared my victims are, they are always amused at my bugged eyes and raised eyebrows-
They laughed, "well, we didn't know it was you. We thought it was a guy finishing up his business."
"What? How would that sound like....bah! nevermind!"
I ran an errand and when I returned to my workspace, there was a cup of coffee and a candybar. Thank goodness the guys are aware that feeding me is always the best answer!
The next day, on a different job, I arrived before sunrise and my car read 5 degrees. I reluctantly wore my coat because when I don't wear my coat and I slightly shiver, the guys make a big deal about me being cold. I was not in the mood for attention.
I gathered my materials and headed across the parking lot toward the building.
A third of the way I was shaking uncontrollably, my fingers and toes were completely numb and the biting wind had frozen my eyes open.
I seriously thought my blood and plasma had frozen, rendering me motionless.
I am not sure how I made it into the building. My brain froze and I lost some time, but I found myself standing in the middle of 7 to 10 guys. My legs and arms were shaking like a bumble ball. The guys were forming a wall around me and the industrial size space heater. I guess since my teeth were clanking like the roller coaster car moving up the incline, the guys felt the need to move me closer to the bright orange heat coils. My eyes were beginning to blink again and I looked down at my corduroy pants.
"You okay now ms margaret?"
I could still feel that the skin on my body was frozen but I was experiencing an intense heat.
"I think my pants are on fire.."
The words shook out of my mouth.
I heard laughing as the guys backed away and the heat enclosure ventilated.
This time I think the attention might have saved my life, or at least my pants.
SHREDDED AND SHRUNKEN
I ended the eventful first week with a day of cleaning. I swept, dusted, vacuumed, mopped and rearranged my house. It felt so good and I even decided to unzip my sofa cushions and wash/dry the covers. I was excited that my couch would be so clean and smell so fresh!
When I removed the covers from the dryer, to my horror, some of the stitching had pulled apart.
I was frustrated but knew it wasn't anything that I couldn't stitch back.
I put the fresh clean covers back on the cushions and placed them on the couch...
They FREAKIN shrunk