Sometimes, life gets in the way of life. You get so busy that you exist instead of living. You take a deep breath, go on with what you're doing and realize and hour or so later you'd forgotten to take that next breath. Most say that's just the way life is now a days but if that's true, is it really worth it? I mean having things is great but is it worth giving up living for?
Looking at the microwave's incessant blinking eleven o'clock every other second was starting to get on my nerves, not to mention making my headache worse than it already was. You'd think after living in Florida for over twenty years I'd gotten use to those damn power brownouts, but I hadn't. I'd kept telling myself over the years I needed to get us one of those large whole house battery backups to alleviate that problem, but I never seemed to get around to doing it. It just wasn't that big of a deal, especially not now.
When I'd gotten home tonight, I'd purposely left the overhead lights in the kitchen off, but the damn LED lights from every appliance in the room gave off enough light I could almost read a newspaper by them. It was dark, I was alone, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Having to shift my weight all the way back in the bar stool, just to get some what comfortable, I now regretted letting Connie talk me into these particular ones. They were about four inches too tall, the seats didn't have nearly enough padding, and were almost forty percent higher priced than the ones I'd originally wanted. I eventually relented because I figure I'd probably never sit in them anyway, and if I did, it would only be for a quick breakfast on a Saturday morning or something like that. Who knew I'd find my ass camped in one of them for over two hours, surely not I.
It really had been one hell of a night, I thought to myself; though technically it wasn't night any longer looking at my watch seeing it was close to two fifteen.
Being an older, long-distance runner, gel packs had become one of my best friends. Coming back after a twelve to fourteen mile run I would reach into the freezer and pull out a couple of the semi frozen packs and wrap them around my achilles tendons and place another couple under my swollen feet.
I hated being cold, but I hated hurting a lot more. I never knew what planters fasciitis was until I got it and suffered through it for three to four months. I learned the hard way what poor quality running shoes, running too far to fast, and not icings afterwards can do to a body that wasn't as young as it thought any longer. Ten minutes on, ten minutes off was the way it usually went. The first ten minutes hurt like a son of a bitch, but after my feet became partially numb it wasn't all that bad. I only needed to shift them on and off a couple of times to make sure I'd minimize the damage the road had done to my feet.
At times in the winter, I'd kick off my shoes and walk into our unheated pool up to my waist. It did the same thing as icing but it also cooled down the rest of me down. Even in Florida it could get damn cold in the winter some times. But this time the gel pads weren't under my feet, they were wrapped around my hands and on both sides of my face.
The period between Thanksgiving and New Years has always been my favorite time of the year. I even save a week of my vacation just so I can enjoy every minute of the holidays. Even the stupid annual company Christmas party was almost bearable. Being in management, I was required to attend or at least show up, have dinner and mingle with the rest of the workers before sneaking out without being seen.
They had an open bar for the first hour and a half and most did their level best to drink themselves under the table in that period of time. I would sit back, sip on a beer or two and try my best to keep everyone under control, which at times wasn't easy. On more than one occasion, in the past ten or so years, the police had to be called because of an obnoxious drunk or someone, who had had way too much to drink got behind the wheel of their car. As I said, it wasn't pretty sometimes.
My wife Connie, until last year, had graciously attended my holiday party but last year begged off complaining of a headache, which we both knew was an outright lie. No matter, I let her off the hook especially when she told me my attendance at hers wouldn't be required. "There is a God," I told myself that night, I was wrong.
This year I asked her if she wanted to go with me to mine. She'd started making excuses two weeks earlier so I knew the answer before I even asked.
"Why don't you go, and we can have our own party when you get home if it's not too late." Hell with an invitation like that, I didn't think I'd even stay for dinner Saturday night, but I did. However, I did manage to get home just a hair after ten thirty and we did have our own intimate holiday party that night.
I'd been waiting to hear about her party but she was being pretty closed mouth about it, not that I was looking forward to it mind you. I had tentively decided not to go and was getting ready to make her the same offer that she'd made me weeks earlier, that is until I saw the dress she'd bought for the occasion.
I know that holiday dresses are suppose to be festive, daring and maybe a bit on the short side, but what she was planning on wearing took all three categories to the extreme.
"You're not seriously thinking of wearing that dress Saturday night are you?"
"What's the matter with my dress? I think it looks spectacular on me," was her quick response with just a touch of sarcasm.
"Honey, that dress says I'm ready for anything and right now, don't you have anything a little more you know, conservative?"
"You don't think I can pull off wearing a dress like that do you? You think its too young, and hot looking for me to wear, is that what you're saying?" I thought long and hard before answering.
"Connie it would make you look like a cheap slut." I didn't know how better to say it.
"You say I look like a tramp?"
"In that dress you would. Don't get me wrong, showing and wearing it with me is one thing, but for a holiday party, alone, it's more than a little over the top."
Okay, she took what I said badly, I kind of knew she would.
Even though it was December, it was extra frosty around our hose for the next couple of days but it was the holidays and nothing was going to ruin my mood.
The following Saturday was her company party and I watched as Connie started to get ready, me watching her every move. When she came out of the bathroom, makeup on and looking hot, she saw that I was dressed in my good suit.
"You going out?"
"Yes, with you to your party."
"I thought you said you didn't want to go again this year?'
"Connie, do you really think I'd let you go to your party dressed like that unescorted?"
"What? Don't you trust me?"
"In that outfit, not a chance!" The look that she gave me said bunches.
"Fine, but you're on your own when we get there."
She finished dressing and she did look spectacular, so good, I tried to talk her out of going.
"Why don't we go out, grab a quiet dinner, and then come home so I can ravage your body the rest of the night." She didn't take me up on option number two as we pulled up to the Hilton where the party was being held.
Like every other office party I'd ever gone to, the employees congregated in one area and the others, like me, aimlessly milled around the hall and surrounding areas. I could see Connie talking to I guess her friends, so after an hour I decided to make a few new friends of my own.
Most of the guys I talked to were bored stiff, like me, but with an open bar, they were feeling no pain after an hour of non stop drinking. I struck up a conversation with a couple of the wives and a few of them knew my wife but everyone seemed to know her boss Doug. Most rated him somewhere just above pond scum and the others? Well, I heard something about being lower than whale dropping mentioned a few times. Arrogant, God complex, pussy hound, and a few other choice words was how he was described and those descriptions were from the sober spouses.
I thought for all the money they were throwing around the dinner was going to be something out of this world, it wasn't. It was the usual medium quality steak, some kind of marinated chicken and the blackened fish? I'd seen better-prepared fish at McDonalds. Needless to say I wasn't impressed. Looks like they'd blown most of their money on the open bar, which went on until midnight or until the last employee, passed out. I nursed the two drinks I had before dinner and then just walked around with a half filled wine glass.
"Having a good time?" I was asked by one of the higher ups in her company. I was about to answer him when he continued. "You're Connie's husband aren't you? She's one of our rising stars. Doug has taken her under his wing to groom her for a team leaders position. You should be proud of her." He smile, I smiled, and thanked him before he walked on to the next group of people.
"Where is my budding star anyway?" I stood up and looked around, nothing. With what was left of my drink in hand I went looking for my wife.
The party took up one hall room and the two adjoining hotel suits. After spending ten minutes walking the hall and not finding Connie, I headed over to one of the two suites. There sure were a lot of drunken employees. I just hoped someone was looking out for them and pulling car keys.
I was just about to leave the first room when I passed the bathroom and leaned up against the wall by the door. Then I heard it.
"Stop it, control yourself. Steve's with me tonight." It was my wife Connie's voice.
"I can't help you brought his ass with you tonight. Connie, I rented us a damn room for later, I thought you said he wasn't coming?'
