“Monday Monday, can’t trust that day
Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be…”
-The Mamas & the Papas
I use to pack so much life into my day that I always had leftovers. But I’m a new woman these days. My goal each and every day is to live a ‘just right’ life – not too skinny and not to fat. But today should have been Fat Tuesday, because by supper time, my hair looked as harried as I felt.
Who knew zippers would be busting all day from the stress of fullness? I woke up Monday morning relishing the fact that I would be having a lovely relaxing pedicure and then maybe a fun lunch and a movie with Kara. Oh sure, I knew I was dropping the dogs off for their monthly grooming, but I didn’t anticipate that this would create any problems. And who knew that the upholstery man would want to deliver my reupholstered couch right before class tonight? And that I would be eating supper on the run at 4:30 in the afternoon, because it was the only open slot until after 8:00 this evening?
When I dropped off the dogs at their new groomer, they were surprised to learn that the poodles were standards and that I hadn’t brought in their immunization records. And I was surprised that they were surprised. And I confess, I don’t deal well with surprises – the stress just put too much pressure on my lip zipper. So out came words of frustration pouring from my mouth. And once spoken, always regretted.
Getting the surprises pushed back into the box where they belonged caused me to leave late for my relaxing pedicure appointment. But traffic was moving smoothly. It looked like I would only be ten minutes late. Stopping at a traffic light gave me a minute to kill, so I dug through my purse to find some lip gloss. When I picked up my cosmetic bag, the zipper surprised me by breaking, and since I had the bag upside down, all the contents scattered into the bottom of my big purse. Was this a metaphor for my day? No time to ponder. The light changed green and I left the mess and the metaphor for later. The pedicure was lovely, interrupted by one follow-up call from the groomer.
I dashed straight from my pedicure to eat lunch with Kara. Then we spent most of the afternoon together, beginning with independent shopping carts up and down the aisles of Wal-Mart to parking ourselves on Kara’s sofa to watch a few episodes of “Sex and the City”. During this time, I had two more follow-up calls from the groomer. Much to the groomer’s surprise, the dogs were taking longer than anticipated. I was surprised at neither the groomer’s surprise or the fact that the dogs were taking a long time.
But what did surprise me was that I picked up poodles who have never looked better. It had been worth the wait and the early surprises and the three follow-up phone calls and the two phone calls to former vets to have shot records faxed over. And even though I knew I was packing in way more than I should, I couldn’t help myself. I just had to reward Max and Maddie with a short poodle walk.
But who could have anticipated that this would be the day that a perfect stranger would zoom out of nowhere to quickly park and hop out of her pickup truck to strike up a friendly conversation about everything poodle, just as we were doing a mad dash around Mesta Park. And of course, I was not the least bit surprised when she asked me for the name of their groomer. It was the perfect refrain for my own little “Monday, Monday can’t trust that day…”
But now that’s its Tuesday, I’m wondering if the three follow-up calls weren’t in response to my upzipped lips of Monday morning. Were the groomers simply trying to manage expectations to avoid unpleasant surprises and the possiblility that their day would end as it began? Because their Monday morning gave them a “warning of what was to be…..”
Why does it take the morning after to discover the truth that humbles and silences me in a way that nothing else does. Oh, “Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way…”