The Dessert Room


In hoping to be a good employee, I got us corralled into attending a fundraising event after work. The boss had intended to be there, but couldn’t for various reasons, so i’m grateful that we all were in a decent enough mood to carry through and do this.  Because by the time work was over, I was entirely disinterested, as I am now, in doing anything.

That’s not true.  I do have a little bit of personal ambition, enough to do a little bit of unfucking before I slip off to sleep.  I just felt a bit panic-stricken on the way, as I realized once again the impact of caffeine on my system.  I start to feel as though I am going to slip through the windshield and be blown to the four winds, or smashed to bits on the highway.

It was fine.  It was exactly as advertised, once we found parking downtown and I handed the man a bag of frozen ground turkey I hope he knew what to do with.  Inside, there were a gaggle (a gaggle is two or three hundred, right?) women with wine bottles and lots of food to try.  There was enough salad and meatballs and sausage that I felt unbothered by skipping the pasta on the banquet table or even the entire bar.

I am proud that I didn’t succumb to the dessert room either.  There was this whole segregated vault of sugar: cream puffs and brownies and I’m sure far more that I didn’t see as I walked past and not through the threshold. I definitely thought about it and danced down the path of possible justification for it, but end of the day, I thought of my reasons and my purpose and somehow I think a little bit of the hypnosis training took hold and I didn’t do it.  So even if I had too much caffeine or failed on other levels today, I have that victory to put in my pocket.  I also gave the king cake the boss brought in a miss because the sugary frosting looked…gross.  I’m sorry, it did.  Well, I’m not sorry, really, because that’s kind of a rare situation for me to not have physically ripped apart from something sugary.  It just didn’t sound appealing at all. Besides, my planned deviation will provide me pizza and dessert and any amount of spasming necessary on Saturday lunch.

I also am considering going to see some friends from the old job or at least one in particular because I miss her advice.  Right now I feel I can use all the advice I can get, even if, all I can really rely on is whatever sensibility is rooting and growing inside me.  Beat back all of the fear and the self-doubt and keep going.

This is a whole year.  This isn’t going to be over with a failure at a meal or a worry over an email.  There’s no parachute, no plane, no jump that separates me from this because this…is my life.  And who knows what will happen.