How to be Homeless for 42 Days
Day 12
For reasons still unbeknownst to me, my body decided to wake me up on this particular Friday work day at the break of dawn at 5:54 in the morning. After tossing and turning, I decided to do what any normal person would do 2 hours before they had to be at work, fold two eggs into sifted flour, top-grade cocoa, and vanilla extract. I continued with the remaining ingredients to create a chocolate cake. Not just any chocolate cake. It was an ode to Texas with a Texas sheet cake, complete with chopped maraschino cherries.
Now keep in mind, I'm concocting this confectionery creation with my best friend sprawled out on the couch with both recliners up and both a box fan running and a fan app buzzing from her phone. Then, adjacent from the living room, is bro’s bedroom.
Baking as though I was in a library, I poured the tasty creation, if I do say so myself, into you a pan that I was impressed two young guys possessed. After slipping the creation in the oven, I proceeded to my temporary bedroom to proceed with my morning ritual. I worked to tame the beast head of curls, put on a face that wouldn't scare mankind, and slip into something that doesn't make me look pregnant nor does it make me look like I and squeezing into my tween sister's clothes. In women's clothing, that's a fine line.
Once cosmetics were as good as they were gonna get, I returned to the oven. The cake possessed the perfect spring-back upon brief touch. This beats the toothpick test every day of the week.
Foiling the morning, and cake, I grabbed my bag only to find my one and only car key, complete with tie-die ductape accents, was missing.
Tearing through the house, my unlocked car, and memory, panic painted me pink. Stirring from her slumber, Tink inquired, “What are you looking for and why do I smell brownies.”
Sheepishly I confessed, “I — I lost my car key..”
“Again?”
With a roll of her eyes, she began opening freezers and digging through the trash.
Knowing me, anything is possible.
“Did you check your jacket pocket?”
“I wasn’t wearing anything with pockets…” sighing heavily, I returned to destroying the space-saved space I had claimed as my own. Stumbling upon a cardigan in a pile, the right pocket possessed a small bulge.
“Tink, I…. umm..”
“You found it, didn’t you? Was it somewhere weird?”
“Right where you… well, said… mom.”
“Ya damn right!”
“Thanks so much! K, love you — bye!”
I snatched my purse and my evening-ware for the semi-formal event I had later tonight, strategically rolled into my pink overnight Vera Bradley bag. My aunt must be a Vera Bradley VIP member because I get one every holiday — even Hanukkah and we’re not even Jewish. I positioned both items into the front of my car, in the only free space as far as the eye can see.
After enthusiastically sitting in Friday traffic from the bottleneck section of West Ashley, Charleston, I called my boss to inform her of my accidental delay. Slightly stressed, she reminded me the new girl, my trainee, started her first day today and this is going to make quite the impression. Apologetic, I ended the call and made it to work in the safest, humanly way possible: dodging cops and taking names (Jerry, Tina, and Sander were the only I could manage).
After arriving in a fog (literally — as if humidity doesn’t inflict enough hindrance to my hair, it has to obstruct my view) I met the new girl. Our day started with a small hill of paperwork, voicemails, and room temperature coffee.
Then, we set out on our day of visits for consumers on our caseload. I moved the overloaded pink Vera bag out of my car and into the office to make room for my trainee and she followed me in her snow white Jeep (no dwarfs) to a midpoint, since our visits were all over kingdom come. Traffic in general going back and forth is equivalent to pulling out every eyelash by hand, but on a Friday, it’s far worse.
After dropping off her car by a trendy little neighborhood of bars referred to as “Park Circle,” we began our journey. After the first visit, we calculate the second wasn’t possible if we planned on making the third. Making an executive decision, and hoping she wouldn’t rat me out to my boss, we moved right along to the next visit. I plotted out the jest of the areas we were going so you can see the journey we made all within the time slots of 11am-3:30pm.
Upon reaching our third visit, we circled the school by car and foot in pursuit of the office door. “Visitors please check in at the office” read all 27 doors we encountered. No bread crumbs from Hansel or Gretel, no spinning arrow from grandmother willow, and no yellow-brick road to ensure the munchkins aren’t late to class.
We found it 14 minutes late and were stuck with an adhesive badge of a black and white copy of our photogenic license pictures. Immediately, we were submerged into high school culture and the flashbacks were not kind. Thank GOD that time is over.
We made it to the special education hallway and made our rounds to 3 different classrooms.
The joy that our four kids we visited possessed could not be measured in even astrology terms. We absorbed facts about their progress towards established goals and were slightly saddened to part.
Disposing of our sticker badges and making our way to my Tetris-arranged car and her perfectly normal Jeep, my trainee said something that made my skin crawl.
“It’s a shame you have to go all the way back to the office (the green point on the map).”
“What? I don’t have to — ”
I stood paralyzed with the realization of the pink patterned bag, possessing my evening ware. Time is of the essence and it was already going to be a close call by arriving to my date’s house from our final visit. Thinking quickly, I took a risk.
“Hey… there’s not anyway you could handle the last visit on your own and if I can meet you at the end, I will?”
“Girl, for sure. I’ve watched you do the other visits and I’ll have your notes,” the perky blonde smiled.
“I — I’ll call the family on my way to the office,” I said climbing into my less-than-a-Lambo-Tetris-car.
Gosh, what if my boss is there? How will I explain I left her on her first day? How will I — I’m a sorry excuse for a liar so…
I dialed the final family’s number before stress could consume me in one bite.
Arriving at the office a crisp 44 minutes later, Tokyo Drift style, I exhaled to see the lights were off. I snatched my painfully patterned bag and returned to the final point on the map above Ricky Bobby Style.
Unable to make it to the final visit, I reached out to my trainee to ensure their house didn’t blow down or God came back around. While I waited for her response, I ventured to my date’s house.
“Girl, it was perfect. Have fun tonight!”
Shake and Bake. WOO!
