Baggage of the Working Woman

Ah... the baggage of a working woman. I forgot how literally heavy the burden of working multiple jobs can be. My briefcase was bursting at the seams! Each zippered pocket was unzipped to allow for the accommodation of multiple binders, planners, folders, notebooks... none of which fell out on my semi-clumsy journey from the office to the car; toting this giant bag, and a large cardboard sign that caught the blustering wind like the sail of a boat!

My morning began with travelling through a rock storm. I was stuck behind a semi hauling two bulldozers on the highway. Just as the traffic broke enough to let me escape into the other lane...WHACK! Rock to the windshield! Yes, my windshield now bears a lovely, permanent, circular wound... and I have PLPD insurance. Good Morning, me.

The first job I reported to today was my almost-for-sure full-time job. There just wasn't much for me to do! I searched high and low; solicited chores and tasks. I fetched a cup of coffee for my cubicle neighbor, even though she swore she was kidding when I asked if I could get her one. I wasn't! The last thing I want to do in this economy is look dispensable. If they decide to cut the position I currently hold, at least they might keep me on as a coffee bar attendant.The Director I report to has been in meetings virtually every hour that I have been on the premises thus far, so we have yet to really work together; although last Friday's past seven o'clock at night coup had to have earned me some retention points. I have my first eight-straight shift there tomorrow, so I hope to be assigned something more important than volunteer inter-cubicle waitressing.

I only had the half an hour in between jobs to eat my lunch. The length of my commute. I was forced to either starve, or, eat McDonald's. I decided a Quarter Pounder with cheese and a refreshing Diet Coke sounded more enjoyable than the growling of my stomach would, so I got off on an exit midway and ordered my clogged-artery-in-a-box. There is just something so demeaning about eating a fast food burger while driving down the highway. Even though that was all I ate, I still felt gluttonous, and wondered who saw me dodging the ketchup-covered onions that kept falling out of the bottom of my burger.

Once I arrived in the parking lot at my other job, I had the daunting task of hauling my giant job-juggling bag of tricks into yet another office, without incident. Too bad when I reached for my hardly-sipped-on-soda, the shoulder strap of my big bag caught on some kind of door apparatus...

SPLOOOOOOSH!!! There goes my soda. Good Afternoon, me.

Aside from a weird visit from a man who had missed his appointment with Denise by over an hour and a half, and showed up while I was alone in the office, then asked me to make a hundred copies of papers he was about to pilfer from another project (while the phone was ringing and I was on another call)... I escaped my last five hours of work without tragedy. Next stop: grocery store.

I've got quite a list of items that I truly need, but the stores with the best prices are on the completely opposite side of town. I hate needless driving. That's probably why I only have 79,000 miles on a car I've had ten years. But there were some things I had to get, so I compromised by only buying the absolutely positively necessary things at the local, yet higher priced store. I was saving gas, saving the environment, and saving my tired little toes from traipsing around the gigantic store. Smart move!

Or not.

I forgot to pick up toilet paper. I have not even a square! Here's hoping my day doesn't get any shittier! (insert drum sound used after bad joke here) Looks like those leftover Christmas print paper napkins will come in handy after all.

My laundry is caught up, but my house is in a state I refer to as "scatteredaboutness." I've been quickly reminded of why I hate nylons. My friends and family haven't quite figured out why I'm suddenly not available, despite my repeated three-job testimony...and I find my eyes begin to close themselves after 8 p.m. Rock chip, bulging bags, spilled soda, smelly feet, shutting eyes... all worth it, I say. It's all about the baggage. What you choose to carry with you. And I'm willing to let it all go for a coupla paychecks, and whole lotta hope for the future.