Senior Moment

by C.C., Guest Blogger, fellow MANIAC

Hmmm – let me think how I can say this without embarrassing myself? Actually, I don’t think that there is any way to achieve that so I should just tell you.  What happened to me….I think it classifies as my first “senior moment.”

The morning started off like any other morning, I managed to drag myself out of bed, single-handedly slapping off the alarm and trudging to the bathroom to shower.  My husband had the great fortune of being off of work in honor of Veteran’s day and he proudly proclaimed that this would be his day to sleep in – I had strict instructions not to disturb him as I prepared myself for a day at the office.  This also meant that I was haphazardly fumbling around in the dark for my clothes because these days I find it absolutely impossible to get organized the night before.

I slapped myself together begrudgingly and headed out the door with a cup of yogurt to suffice as my wholesome and nutritious breakfast (Ha, I’m not even sure it’s fat-free!)  The end of Daylight Savings time makes the early start to my day difficult – I firmly believe that no one should have to awake if it is not even light outside yet, I mean really, if the sun is not awake – why should I be?

Anyhow, I trudged into the office and planned to head straight to the break room for coffee and weekend gossip. Stepping into the office was my first exposure to full lighting since I had worked my way out of bed, and the longest set of steps I had taken all day in my shoes.  Something wasn’t right – my feet felt weird and I felt I was walking strangely. Before I could take a quick detour to toss all my belongings in my office and investigate my feet, I was greeted by the last person on earth I could possibly desire to run into at this moment – the loud-mouth with a Southern drawl, who literally feeds on gossip, “Oh my heavens, Rita*! What on earth fashion statement are you making?”

These words left her mouth at the same volume as a bullhorn, aimed directly in the direction of the break room, overflowing with a line of my co-workers stocking up on their morning caffeine buzz. It was also simultaneous with my first glance at my feet – I was mortified.

My mouth hung open and my eyes made their way back up to meet Cammie’s.  She had her hand on her hip and was staring at me with a look of utter disdain and pity.  Her unintended “announcement” had pulled several of my co-workers out of the break room to peak at me over their cups of coffee – they looked very confused.  I had a different shoe on each foot – they looked similar, but were definitely not the same shoe. I composed myself and mustered a dirty look in the direction of Cammie as I proudly strutted into the break room for coffee. Giggles erupted at my so-called “fashion statement” as I entered the room.  I bit my lip, trying to fight back the tears that stung my eyes. How was I going to explain this to a room full of twenty and thirty year olds who haven’t the faintest idea about mood swings and memory lapses? (Although, I can hardly blame this on “the change” that is threatening to knock on my door.)

Then it hit me, I turned around, took a sip from my cup and proudly jutted one foot forward, “I wanted your opinion, er, I mean opinions…. Which of these shoes goes better with this outfit?” I was never the type to seek fashion advice from my co-workers – I am the trendsetter, under normal circumstances. And this cover only elicited a few jeers and whispers from my youthful audience. One girl, timid, but generally sweet, offered her opinion, “Um, they both look nice, but aren’t they both left foot shoes?”

*Names have been changed.


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