bewize | LJ Idol 3: Bliss: It's Not All Kisses and Babies and Unicorns

I find it incredibly ironic that I am trying to think of blissful moments in the midst of what has truly been a horrible few months. Without going into the boring details, let me just say that there has been drama. Family drama, work drama, personal drama, random drama, and even some drama that doesn't bear mentioning.

In the interest of full disclosure, I asked my regular readers what their "blissful moments" consisted of and I got some truly beautiful answers. There were tales of weddings and first kisses, proposals and the first time expectant mothers felt their babies move. There were tales of rainbows and unicorns. My regular readers are a rather interesting group of people. Don't blame me.

As I'm single and not expecting, and as I don't recall the last time I saw unicorns or rainbows (unless you count my foray to the Gay Pride March), and especially as my first kiss tale doesn't need to be shared (maybe ever), none of these really spoke to me. I don't mean to make it sound like I've never been happy, because generally, I am the happy-go-lucky-nee-insane, laid-back-even-as-I'm-stressed-out, flippant, glass-half-full sorta girl. Just not lately.

But the Powers that Be want to hear about Moments of Bliss in my Life. So be it.

I have decided to share the tale of a moment which happened in the midst of all the other moments of misery this month, a moment which has oft repeated itself over the past few weeks, but which I rarely think about. A moment, which I dare say, most, if not all of you are familiar with.

Let me set the scene for you. Picture it: A busy highway at 7:55 a.m. The knowledge of yet another long and grueling day to come. The promise of a messy desk, a cranky boss, and an overflowing email inbox in my immediate future. This is not the moment of bliss.

This is my commute to work. I am deliberately sparing you the hair raising details of near misses, rude hand gestures, and four letter words which also comprise my commute to work. Those are neither here nor there.

I am approaching my exit, with a mixture of relief and apathy, when all of a sudden - screeching tires, shuddering vehicles, muffled expletives - I nearly collide with the back of the car in front of me. It is the most dreaded of occurrences. It is a TRAFFIC JAM. This is not the moment of bliss.

With no options before me, I mop up the coffee I just spilled on my suit with the receipt I find in the glove box, make crude suggestions to the radio DJ who has failed me by not warning me that there was some minor fender bender ahead, which necessitates that ALL LANES OF TRAFFIC come to an IMMEDIATE HALT to better facilitate RUBBER NECKING, and call the office to let them know that I will be late. This is not the moment of bliss.

Time slows to a standstill. I put my car in park. I fiddle with the radio and try to find a DJ who knows something about my current predicament. I stare wistfully at the coffee remnants now soaking into my skirt.

Something starts to sound a tiny warning bell in the back of my brain. Something about coffee... wait. Not the coffee I spilled. The coffee I already drank. The two glorious cups of steaming coffee I consumed at home before climbing into the car. The two cups of coffee that are making their way through my system even as I sit here in traffic for an indeterminate length of time.

Oh. My. God.

I have to pee!

The thought has barely crossed my mind before I am hunched over, agony pangs running through my body. Traffic continues to crawl forward at a snail's pace. I could get out and run faster than this! Even though I'm wearing three inch heels! This is not the moment of bliss.

The @&&holes who caused this accident should be shot! They should be paraded about in public, flogged, and then have to make personal apologies to the 2 million people waiting on the interstate! They should be forced to drink two cups of coffee and then wait until they were in agony before being allowed the chance to find a restroom. This is definitely not the moment of bliss.

Just when I am about to send for a priest so that I can make my last (and first, actually) confession and obtain my Last Rites, I manage to squeak my car onto the exit ramp of my exit. I think it best to leave out the precise details of how I managed this. I am sure that the family in that mini-van will not be scarred for life. Really. And this is not the moment of bliss.

The line into the parking deck is backed up. Of course. I persevere, however, because I am now desperate. I race around the upward circles to the level of the deck I want to park on. It is full. I race around the downward circles to the level of the deck which actually still has spots left. I find one. It's as far away from the elevator as possible. Naturally. This is not the moment of bliss.

I make it to the central building and jostle and shove my way across the bridge to my building. I join the throng of people trying to get from the Lobby Level to various floors of the building. I am on 27. The elevator arrives. We cram inside and I watch with increasing dismay, and a growing fear, as nearly every button between Lobby and 27 lights up. Finally, the elevator begins its ascent. By the time we've dropped off a passenger on 15, picked up a passenger on 16, who wants only to go up one floor to 17, I am afraid that I will die before I make it. This is not the moment of bliss.

When the doors begrudgingly open on 27, I leap out... only to smash into the head partner, who is waiting for an elevator to take him out of the building. Quickly, I mumble an apology, but the inevitable conversation is... well, inevitable. "Yes, the rain outside is gloomy." "I did notice that traffic was particularly bad this morning." "Of course that memo will be on your desk in 22 seconds, never mind the fact that you're obviously leaving." "Good luck at trial! Have fun playing golf! Goodbye!" This is so not the moment of bliss.

I key in the door code as quickly as possible. Then I must rekey in the door code, because I got it wrong. Crap! Crap! I've forgotten the door code! Is it possible that my brain function is already shutting down? I can't feel my left leg anymore. What are the signs of kidney malfunction? This is not the moment of bliss.

Finally, someone in the hall takes pity on me and opens the door. I think I said thank you. I hope. Running now, I hit my office like a hurricane. Where in the name of all that is holy did I leave that memo? How long could it possibly take for a computer to turn on? Boot! Boot, damn you! Boot, please, I'm begging. This is not the moment of bliss. This is a moment of shame, as I'm pleading with inanimate objects now.

Log on. Password.

Tears.

Print! Print!

Eureka! I have it!

A new, still warm copy of the memo in my hand, I debate kicking off my shoes, because I'll move faster that way. I probably shouldn't. I can't walk normally anymore anyway. I'm doing what is commonly referred to when speaking of toddlers as the "Peepee Dance." In addition to being one of my more embarrassing moments at work, this is not the moment of bliss.

Around the corner. Throw the memo on the desk. Fly down the hall. Skid into the bathroom. Go into my favorite stall. WHY IS THERE NO TOILET PAPER?! IS THIS A COSMIC JOKE?!

Hobble to the stall next door, with my bottoms already unfastened and being held up by one hand. Toilet paper. Check. Screw the safety seat paper thing that I can't ever figure out how to work anyway. I'll take my chances with disease. Surely it wouldn't be as painful an end as Death by Bladder Explosion.

Drop britches. Sit down. And finally, finally, finally, thank you God, relief. THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is the moment of bliss. In fact, it is so good that it deserves the title. This is the "Moment of Bliss."

No other part of my day will measure up to the sweet ecstasy of relief flowing through (and out of) my body at this moment. No other victory will be so personal.

Time resumes its normal speed. I feel strangely languorous. I take my time washing my hands, still basking in the afterglow. With one last satisfied sigh, I push the door open and head out into the hallway to face my day.

Besides that, I really could use a cup of coffee.

This entry was written in response to the

therealljidol Challenge 3: “A Moment of Bliss.” There will be voting for this week's entries. I will make sure to link to the poll once it is put up and I would appreciate it if you would vote for me if you enjoy my entry. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.

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From:

supremegoddess1.livejournal.com

This was hysterical, and so, so relatable.

I have a chronic bladder ailment that necessitates me peeing (literally) between 15 and 20 times a day on GOOD days. I spend half of my life in some form of the pee-pee dance.

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LJ Idol 3: Bliss: It's Not All Kisses and Babies and Unicorns

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