Disappointment

I’m going to write an autobiography and title it “Disappointment”.

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It Doesn’t Really Matter

Yesterday was a bad day for me. Several people broke promises, changed their minds, went back on their word, and some even admitted they were lying in the first place.

Well.

Well, I’ve lived long enough to know that these things happen. I just didn’t expect the bombardment of all these things to happen on the same day. But they did.

It upset me enough that I did not write. I could not write. I didn’t care anything about writing or much of anything else. I went back in my mind through all the previous hurts that have been hurled and heaped at me during all this long life I’ve lived and I got myself into a terrible funk.

I forgot . . . you can’t trust anybody. Not any goddamned body can you trust on this earth. If you think you can, you just haven’t been disappointed enough . . . yet. Give it time.

But today I woke up feeling better . . . happy . . . hopeful. I marveled in the way I’ve quickly trained my dog to quit whining and pouting when I leave the house. I don’t blame her for her former attitude. I used to go to work several long hours a day – I was gone 9 or 10 hours. She was left here with my son, who didn’t coddle her and didn’t do anything special for her while I was gone. He’d try to walk her, but often she’d sit down, fall over, or do any number of things to let him know this wasn’t right in her world. Get Mama. Mama was who walked her.

The day came in the month of April last year when I could no longer work. I blame the new, know-it-all principal who, in March, replaced the principal I knew and loved. The new one immediately increased my work load by 50%, even though I was at the limit of what was expected and what  research has shown is more than the optimal number of children/groups to be seen by a remdiation teacher daily. I went from 10 groups and 35 children per day to 10 groups and 48 children per day. These were Kindergarten/First Grade Level children. I talked to the principal, who let me know that she was in charge and nothing was changing.

God had other ideas. I finally became so ill that my doctor said that was it. I had to quit work. I was devastated. I loved my job. I loved feeling like I made a difference in the lives of children. I sometimes thought that if not for me, some of those children would never have learned to read fluently. I worked hard, until I was not able to work anymore.

The next school year, as I sat home feeling sorry for myself, two other teachers at the same school passed away. The oldest was in her 40’s; the youngest was 26 or 27. How could that be? I kept in touch with former colleagues and learned how hard the workday had become. I was grateful to have been spared the harshness that was now my former workplace.

During all that time, I began walking my little dog more frequently. I noticed how terribly upset she became if I left home long enough to go get a haircut; or if I was gone to the grocery store. I wasn’t gone that long any more. Still, I could see what her separation anxiety was doing to her. So I began a new ritual. I got ready to go . . . dressed up . . . put on makeup and just as I was ready to leave, I stopped and called her. I put the leash on her and took her out for a walk. Her walk . . . for as long as she wanted and anywhere that she wanted. This was not as difficult as it sounds because she is 15 years old and doesn’t walk far or for long. Still this change in my routine “did the trick!”. She quit pouting and whining when I’d start getting ready to leave and would sit in happy anticipation. When I’d finally get my shoes on (last step), she’d head to the door for her walk with her tail wagging. When we came back in, I told her I’d be right back and left. She was lying down tired from her walk, but still cheerful enough not to complain.

Animals are true with their feelings. They don’t try to be sophisticated. They don’t try to tell you what you want to hear. They don’t LIE.

The world is a harsh place and people are mostly working from their own agendas and what they want. I don’t like to be lied to. I don’t like being disappointed. I need to spend less time with folks who disappoint me and lie to me. I’ve already cut some people out of my life because of their behavior. There’s no one I really need. It’s time to do some more weeding. That’s all.

Yesterday is over and today is a better day.

 

 

Another Bullet in the Gun (Roulette Food Quality Blog Reference)

Oh, Bojangles . . . this morning, against my better judgment, I drove to your place for that country ham biscuit I’ve been craving. I decided to time the trip so I’d know how long it took. I assumed 5 to 10 minutes. It was over 20.

I told you with my first coffee order how many creams and sugars total I would need. I ordered two coffees and repeated the amounts when you asked again with the second order I placed – “how many creams and sugars?”.

I spent over 20 minutes waiting for breakfast. When I got home, there was NO cream and NO sugar in any of the three bags. The hash rounds were lukewarm.

Oh, Bojangles. Did you know I can go to the grocery store, which is closer than you are, and buy country ham? Did you know they also sell biscuits? Did you know I can cook those myself in the 20 minutes I spent in the car buying the same products for at least twice the cost from you?

Did you know fall is here and a little warmth from the oven in the morning will soon be a welcome thing?

Your chicken was bad day before yesterday. The coating was so hard and dry that neither my son nor I could eat it. It used to be our favorite part of your former delicious chicken.

I have cream and sugar here. It’s just easier to have it in the bag. I searched all three bags, which caused the already lukewarm hash rounds (I can heat those in the oven too after I buy them from the grocery store), but the search for the non-existent cream and sugar made the hash rounds even less warm.

So, good-bye, farewell, and perhaps next summer when I don’t want to heat the kitchen by using the oven, I’ll try you again. Three strikes and you’re out . . . You’ve got two strikes already in three days’ time.

I don’t have a lot of money. I must spend it as wisely as possible. Paying for two disappointments in three days . . . not wise.

I noticed as I was driving out of your lot that the line was more than doubled in length than it was when I first got there. I’m sure my decision to go elsewhere won’t affect your profit margin at all. But who knows? Maybe some of those people will be as disgruntled and disappointed as I am.

Such a sad day . . . for I did love you. What’s that saying? “Fool me once, shame on you . . . Fool me twice, shame on me.”  I knew better when I ate the chicken. I just hoped it was a fluke.