The Red Light

Click, click.

Beep.

Diiiiing!

“Welcome to World Wardrobe!” projected a voice deep within the store as I continued to step in further. The lady behind the counter was a short, plump woman with remains of what used to be a head full of ginger locks and an energy so vibrant she must have been well beyond her first cup of coffee. She appeared old enough to be my grandmother yet clearly had the motivation of a newborn baby the way she zipped around sorting through clothes while pointing customers in every which way as they asked where to find this and that.

Diiiiiing! “Welcome to World Wardrobe!” Gosh that must get so repetitive.

A rush of a breeze wrapped around my entire body as I felt the pain of a punch on my right shoulder. “Your in the way!” I watched as the lady frantically ran towards the counter dragging her bags over my feet and then the sleeve of a bubblegum pink shirt that was nearly falling out. “Hi, I would like to sell of all these, so how much will I get?”

“Hi how are you today ma’am?” questioned the old plump woman, Sal written across her nametag.

“I need to sell these,” said the woman again, this time a little more calm.

“If you don’t mind filling out this form with some basic information I’d be happy to add you to the list and call you when we have finished going through everything.”

“Oh I went through it, everything’s fine, so uh, how much did you say you’ll be paying me for all this?”

“Well that’s why we have to go through everything first ma’am, to ensure the quality of all your items and to maybe return any to you that we feel could be more valuable to someone somewhere else. That just ensures everyone’s happy ma’am.” Her use of ‘ma’am’ was quite a nuisance as I began to pick up on her slight southern accent. “Also because of the heavy traffic here this time of year, we can only examine two bags per customer, but you’re welcome to come back tomorrow with two more bags.”

The lady glared as if Sal had just robbed her of everything she’s ever had. “You do not understand, Christmas just ended, we don’t have much time, I am in the middle of cleansing myself, do you think you can just make me put that on pause for you?” At this point I was staring with no control.

Sal focused on me now, “Is there something specific you were looking for?” I snapped out of it and realized this was not my business. I turned right around and walked out of the store before I could lay my eyes on anything I would want to buy. From the looks of it, I would be waiting awhile to check out anything I picked up anyway. I got back in my car reflecting on the insanity of people and their “cleansing” rituals as I began to slowly back up, slamming on the brakes soon after as another crazy woman zipped behind me and then into a parking spot near by, got out of the car, and dragged her bags in just as frantically.

I got home, no bags to bring in. The red light flashed on my phone counsel with new messages waiting for my arrival. I clicked the button

“Hi Rach,” Rachel was my name but those who were close to me called me Rach, usually, “I know it’s been awhile but I wanted to let you know I’ve been thinking about you and you’re welcome to come over whenever you’d like, we’ll talk soon. Tell your folks I said a Happy New Year to them!” Same message as last year, and once again, probably the only message I’ll get for the year.

Click. “Next message.”

“ Hey girl! It’s Sam, you know, Samantha? From science lab?” It’s been almost two years since I graduated high school now and just about a year since I last talked to Sam. I guess you could say we had a falling out. We really just distanced after my grandmother passed and I had become cold to the world, Sam just took it personally I guess, nobody’s fault, really. “I just wanted to let you know, more for me though, that I forgive you.” Okay, I changed my mind. It was her fault. She probably should have been there for me more knowing how close of a relationship I had with my grandmother. She was too worried about losing me as a friend texting me things like asking if we are still friends and she felt like I didn’t like her like I used to. Of course I didn’t, I didn’t like anyone, I just lost a huge piece of me, like losing a friggin limb. It’d be kinda hard to lose a leg and then get up and start walking again. 

Click. “Last message.”

“Are you unhappy with your current medical coverage?” Aah the wonderful world of telemarketers, Shut up. I shuffled over to end the message retrieval. “Start off 2020 right, correct you health…”

Annnd Click. 

Today is December 31st. Tomorrow is January 1st. And at one point, tomorrow was December 1st, and November 1st, and October 1st. What was I missing? Someone, sometime ago, decided on a certain calendar setup and it just so happened that January 1st was the first day of the year. Great. Well what if nobody ever decided that? What if we all just lived everyday like another day, because that’s all it really is right? Another day? The holidays all repeat, Valentines day, St. Patrick’s Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and then the big finale at the end of the year where Halloween hits, then Thanksgiving, Christmas, almost feels as if you never left the same chair at Uncle Mike’s house as your family celebrated around you. Then you think you get a break after that but New Year’s comes to slap you in the face and suddenly there is an expectation realm around everyone for a fresh start for the next two months until we all just resort back to our regular ways. You know, the seasons repeat too. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall. They are all present in a time marked “year” but they don’t end and start again, aiming to be better than before. They just act in a cycle. One dying out while the next steps in to pick up the slack. You know why we rely on a groundhog for our annual ritual? Why we rely on an animal who has no idea about time past the difference between day and night? Because it keeps humans on a timeline. But life isn’t a timeline. If a groundhog wants to start doing something different on August 7th at 6:42 in the afternoon, he does it. Anyone of you crazy New Years go-getters could drop dead anytime, and you can’t control that. You can’t align it perfectly with your timeline, when it’s convenient for you. Who is someone that developed an idea of time to encourage you to wait until January 1st to start your better life, seems a little dependent for no reason. “We made it through another year!” people will proclaim year after year after year, like what were you expecting? Whether you come or go, or the World gets shipped off to war and people die, there will always be that guy, “Phew, made it through 2036, let’s make 2037 great!” But will it be? Why couldn’t you have made the last month, or the last two months, or the last two months and twelve days great, were you out of control? To make it through another year again, I guess is a good personal… accomplishment? Not sure if that’s the best word to describe it. You either make it, or you die and don’t know you didn’t make it. In this case though, wouldn’t your birthday be a better start to your “year”? Or even if we wanted to do this as a group effort, as a full country effort, our country has a birthday! But, I digress, people will still go out and have their fun every year proclaiming that “This is my year!”

I opened the fridge and grabbed some guacamole I had thrown together last night. That was about the only thing that remained in my fridge, but a day like this was not one to grocery shop. It was already 5:00 and darkness would be rolling in soon. Just another day that flew by with no accomplishments. I grabbed some wheat crackers that sat at the top of my pantry and shuffled to the living room to sit in the recliner. I clicked the TV on and scrolled through the channels, everyone of them making a big deal about the ball drop. Why the hell do hundreds of people feel the need to talk about a ball dropping hours before it happens to signify a new day? Why is that so damn entertaining?? A big ball is lowered from high up. That’s it. Somehow its broadcasted about for hours. Me eating my homemade guacamole would be a more interesting topic.

There was nothing to watch on TV, the world could not convince me to go out and do any sort of shopping, and the few friends I had were probably miles and miles away drunk out of their minds. I lived alone and I usually didn’t mind it, but on a night like tonight or really any night deemed to be a holiday, I had to worry about break ins or someone I loved being in some sort of accident with a stupid party animal.

I shuffled back to the kitchen, rinsed my dishes and grabbed a glass of water. My doctor told me to start drinking a full glass of water before bed, said it would reduce cramps while I was sleeping. Nowadays I would just be up all night peeing, but I guess he was right, at least I didn’t have cramps. Nothing like waking up to yourself already standing beside your bed and it feeling like your being stabbed in the back of the leg. 

I took my water to the bathroom and started the shower. I cleaned myself up, got soap in my eyes like almost usually everyday and stood there for five minutes in pain thinking what an inconvenient time this would be for someone to break in, me blinded. I stood under the hot water for a while sipping my cold glass of water, just like I did every night. 

I got out and blow dried my hair on the lowest heat setting, just like I did everyday. I brushed my teeth and flossed and gargled listerine, just like yesterday and the day before. 

I threw my robe around me which was conveniently left hanging on the bathroom door, just like it is everyday. 

I walked to the kitchen to stare at the green numbers on the stove screaming 6:45 in the finally pitch blackness that poured through every inch of the windows. Too early for bed I thought. 

I cleaned and put the dishes away that I left in the sink so that I wouldn’t have to worry about them tomorrow, just like I always do before bed.

I went to my room and put all my blankets and pillows in order. I was never one to make my bed in the morning, not today, not yesterday, never. I plopped down and scrolled through every app on my phone, just like I do everyday. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, peoples stupid snapchat stories, all the same, trying to impress the world, looking much happier online then they probably actually are in real life. 

It was now just after 7:00. People were probably getting up from naps and just now leaving their houses to go celebrate after spending hours getting ready. Here I was, ready to sleep again, too early again, just to wake up early tomorrow, again, and start going... again.

I woke the next morning to the sunlight beaming through my window onto my pillow on the same spot as it does everyday. I got up, went to the bathroom, washed my face, put my deodorant on and got dressed. I opened my front door to leave for work and there stood that big bulldog, the one that’s there every morning when I leave for whatever it is I am doing.

I went to work, then went grocery shopping, came home, red light flashed on my phone counsel, listened to the messages. 

Grabbed something to eat, clicked through the tv channels.

Back to the kitchen, rinsed dishes, grabbed a glass of water. 

Took water to the bathroom, started the shower, burned eyes, thought about burglars.

Stood in shower, finished glass of water.

Got out, blow dried hair.

Brushed teeth.

Flossed.

Gargled.

Robe.

Dishes.

Bed.

Phone.

Sleep.

I woke the next morning to the sunlight beaming through my window onto my pillow on the same spot as it does everyday. I got up, went to the bathroom, washed my face, put my deodorant on and got dressed. I opened my front door to leave for work and there stood that big bulldog, the one that’s there every morning when I leave for whatever it is I am doing.

I went to work, then came home, and guess what? The red light was flashing on my phone counsel.