In The Moment.

Crusty hands. I bought lotion the other night so why the hell are my hands so dry? I put it on right after I got out of the shower, had some red wine, a Mad Housewife Cabernet and it was good I think. I say I think because I am not sure if I genuinely like it our I just think I like it because it's so damn cool. I wanted to make sure everything was done before I corked the bottle because I know once I have a glass of red wine nothing else matters. Not folding clothes, not washing dishes, or making dinner, not scrubbing that nasty bathtub, or sweeping or mending the garden. The label on the back says something to that effect. Live in the moment and when I have my glass that's exactly what it becomes, me and that moment, me and that glass of wine and frankly that scares me.

I'm not the type of person to live in the moment. I have to literally scream at myself sometimes to just STOP, slow down and relax a few seconds. Nothing is going to die if I don't do what needs to be done right away or I am not going to get anything done faster by stressing myself out over it. However, no matter the amount of coaxing, I am constantly thinking and/or (I hate using that term and/or it's annoying but it applies so whatever) stressing about my next move. Not that I go and act on that move, or put it into action right away I just like to think about it and how great it's going to end up or play out.

A few months ago when my car battery was shot and killed I asked a friendly neighbor to give me a jump. Already running late and in a super hurry my perception was blurred by the chaos and I moronically placed the cables on the wrong sides and blew out my radio so now when I am driving alone which is 98% of the time, I spend those short distances mindlessly thinking of how I'm going to rearrange the living room. Or what other ways I can cleverly arrange the books in my bookcase or if moving the refrigerator to it's original spot was a good idea. Other things like switching my room around and placing the bed in a prime location where the sun might cast it's glorious rays in a more superfluous manner over my Mexican Flag blanket.

I like to do most of my heaviest thinking at night right before I slip into an abyss dream lands unknown. Tedious and annoying thoughts like what bills are due this week and if I forgot to set up automatic payment for Comcast or if I have enough gas to get me to work or if I even have enough gas money to buy gas. It's mainly all about money and the lack there of.

On occasion I like to think about what I am going to wear the next day but only if there is something special going on otherwise I seriously can care less. What clothes need to be washed for the weekend and if I remembered where I put my favorite weekend shirt which leads to thinking if anyone has discovered my weekend shirt and can't muster the heart to tell me it's time to buy a new one.

My favorite one is thinking about what I can write the next day because I clearly want to write something absolutely interesting and undoubtedly cool but I end up spending so much time thinking about it and how awesome its going to be that actually getting to the writing part ends up being too exhausting and draining.

I am beginning to wonder if it's just women that have this problem because for the last nine years I have been studying the man I married and he is pretty awesome at living in the moment. Rarely letting another single human being distract him from the task at hand be it synchronizing his ipod, or getting to the next level on angry birds, or watching tv, or watching youtube, or painting, or developing something on the computer. Every now and then, I sit and glare at him with envious and sometimes furious eyes wishing I possessed a small fraction of that trait. Wishing I could sit and just write with not one interruption from a nagging, hungry, needy child trying to show me her newest most amazing drawing or trying to lure me to the bathroom for 'girl-talk' while she poops a dook. You gotta love those girls.

Even as I sit here now finishing this up I am already thinking about what I am going to post next and how I must hurry and save the pictures before they are deleted and although it may take me a few days to get it up here, you can be rest assured it is going to be epic.

Bochinchosas, Chismosas, Y Interesadas...

It's where I am at right now. I drove straight here, took the carpool lane, I passed go, I didn't collect my hundred dollars, and I certainly didn't ask for directions.

I usually take the same route every time but every once in a while I will switch it up and take 11th street instead of Santa Clara. Why? I have no clue. I use to have an IPOD that I would listen to on my way here to sort of ease the pain I know I am going to face, but my wonderful brain has put it in a top secret location so top secret that it refuses to reveal its whereabouts to me. Rather than listening to my favorite tunes while singing loudly and proudly, I scan my brain for any potential mistakes I might have made the night before premeditating solutions before my arrival. Or instead I practice all foreign accents. Lately I have been favoring the leprechauns and practicing my Irish brogue. Sometimes I feel fancy and in honor of the upcoming royal-pain-in-the-ass wedding I practice my English accent. And when I'm feeling mighty ethnic I practice what I like to call my "yo-I'm-from-the-Bronx-&-I'm-Boricua-&-proud" accent. And although I think I am fairly good at every accent I attempt, when I am asked to show off my skills I cower in embarrassment and perform terribly under pressure so don't bother asking for a free sample.

As I arrive every morning, I survey the parking lot to see if my manager is already in, next I scan for the closest parking spot to the door. I park the car, gather my mess which includes a bag filled with bills I swear I am going to pay online, letters I swear I am going to send out in the morning mail, and of course a book I know I am not going to read. I head inside for what is sure to be the most delightfullest most pleasantest day of all days.

However, this morning as I walked in I was greeted with an odd vibe. There was a substance in the air that had a stinky odor to it, something I'm not normally accustomed to but nonetheless, it was in the air. Betrayal, regret, awkwardness, nervousness, and as I was asked to go into the back room aka closet of shame, I then realized why. When I came out of the closet, (not literally), they were huddled uttering words that must have been filled with a juice so juicy they couldn't wait to spew. How cute! Although at the moment I hadn't realized that I was the topic of their brief pow wow, it was awfully considerate of them to detain themselves as soon as I approached the dead end of my work station.

However trivial this may seem, it's moments like these that I know add spice to their lives. It's moments like these that make their life more relevant, more suspenseful, more exciting. So instead of being angry and bitter and resentful and vengeful, I will just gladly with a smile say "Your welcome!" I gave you something to look forward to on your otherwise monotonous mornings and although it was at my expense, I have to say it was pretty exciting for me too while it lasted.