I'm Not Sweet

It's been over a month since I've done something stupid or ridiculous. I haven't become horribly lost and disoriented, walked into any blatantly immobile objects, spilled or drooled all over myself at inopportune moments, or nearly run over any pedestrians while driving. My life had become so normal I was just beginning to wonder if I would have to change my whole self concept when finally God rescued me from boredom on Wednesday night. Since I'm only working 3 days a week right now, Tuesday night I was allowing myself the distraction that is facebook, this time experimenting to see if I could check my messages without linking directly from an email that says I have a message, when suddenly facebook has my entire email contact list with checkmarks beside every name asking if I want to invite everyone I've ever met onto facebook. "Aaaaaaaaah!" I cry and my hand jerks the mouse to click "cancel"... and misses. Instead, I hit the "send" button. "AAAAAAAGGGGHH!!!" I scream. But there is no option to take it back and facebook gives me no message letting me know who all I have accidentally invited to the socialization black hole. I decide it might have all been a horrible hallucination produced by my subconscious fears and go back to responding to emails. The next morning as I am preparing to leave for work, Chasey looks up from the computer and politely thanks me for the invitation but informs me that he is not interested in joining facebook. My stomach experiences a strange dropping sensation similar to that of the dread I feel prior to driving exams, starting a crazy shift at the DC, or standing on the field with a new team to play soccer for the game start. No. It cannot be. I imagined I did that. But I did do it. And what do you know but the first thing my coworker/friend Jen says when I arrive is, "Faye, I'm sorry but I've heard what a time sucker Facebook is and I'm really not interested in joining." Before I can give a sympathetic response my boss walks in to the room and adds that he really likes my profile picture. "GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" I have present and past employers, professors, and mere acquaintances on that contact list and if my brother, friend, and boss all got that cursed email, then so did everyone else! Darn you, stupid facebook! I only joined at the ardent urging of two friends from Jr High who insisted you were small and private! And do you know who I never talk to on facebook now? Denise and Sarah, the girls who insisted we would keep much more regular contact if I joined. Instead, I spend hours of my time responding to every hello or identified photo from people I went to school or church or work or volunteering or youthgroup with since I was 5 years old because I'm a pushover and I can't say, "No, I don't want to be your friend so please go away" to anyone! DON'T JOIN FACEBOOK. IT IS A CULT THAT WILL SUCK YOUR BRAINS AND SENSE OF TIME OUT. DO NOT GIVE IN TO CONFORMITY. JUST SAY "NO". Anyways, that was Wednesday. Then on Friday I arrived for work at noon and was sent to my boss' garage to put primer on a board I had apparently painted the wrong side of (given that the board is geometrically semetrical I still really don't understand how this matters but I'm not going to argue over additional hours). I was nearly done when suddenly the can of primer slipped from my fingers, threw a geyser of paint up into the ceiling and across the board, saw horse, floor, and me, then miraculously landed (slightly dented) right- side up on the floor beside me. I immediately start laughing. And, what do you know but my boss just happened to come check on my progress right at the moment the can of paint slipped from my fingers so he witnessed the entire thing. My mind somewhat returning, I try to curb my laughter and look remorseful since I did just splatter paint all across his garage but after the stupified look started to melt into a grin I gave up the futile attempt and started laughing again. After scooping paint off the cardboard layed beneath the saw horses the board was resting on to finish my task, I head inside for the shower my boss graciously offered me. I looked in the mirror and started laughing again (which caused my boss to burst out laughing the next room over). I regret to inform you that although I actually had a camera in my backpack with which I might have taken an excellent self-portrait, I had already stripped out of my paint sodden clothes before I thought to take a photo and didn't think it appropriate to go wandering my boss' house naked in pursuit of posterity. So the moral of the story is: "Sweet" is still not an accurate descriptive word for me. I may happily continue to use the more appropriate God-provided self-portrait of myself as a very clumsy dashound puppy tripping over her own feet and ears in a sunny field of daisies. Oh yeah, that reminds me: I totally drooled on myself later that afternoon when greeting one of my boss' renters as I was trimming the grass. It feels good to be myself again.