People are dancing on the other side of the door.
Laughter & light is speaking through the gaps.
You can tell there’s a party but you’re in the lobby.
The waiting room.
Reading a Highlights magazine.
Waiting to hear your name.
Wondering what sterile smells like.
Anxiety & boredom are tickling each other & giggling.
Squealing with excitement.
You look to the frames hanging on the Pinterest Board of your mind displaying quotes of the greats.
Is this a Dentist office from 1995 or a blog? The narrator thinks to themselves.
“Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.”—Vincent Van Gogh
You return from the dissociated state you drove here in and realize your earthly setting:
Dropping off your Stitch Fix returns to the Post Office on a Saturday.
Walking inside the lobby, you deny the existence of the DIY machines, && go first for the door to the humans. Your chest is puffed up a bit by the fortune of a small line. Pretty short for a Saturday.
Locked. “Oh no wonder” I says to myself.
“Oh they are closed?” a man grumbled from the darkest corner.
Plan B — the DIY machines. There’s a handle. I try to move it but it seems like it will need a little oomph.
I strap my dangly purse from one shoulder into a cross-body mode so that I can put a little extra into it.
The man leaves the post office lobby in a tormented rage— checking my reaction as he makes his frustration known && wonders if I noticed. (I did).
A women walks into the lobby. She says to me, as I move the lever unsuccessfully with one arm. “You’ve really got to slam it”.
I try harder. Nothing. “Really slam it”.
The sound of metal scraping takes over the soundscape. But the drop-in machine opens wide enough for my return. I place my box inside. I lock my shoulder into position with my hand on the lever, and reverse-squat with conviction. The metal scrapes, the lever lifts, the box drops with a successful thud.
“Guess it could use some WD40.” I ping the joke hanging alone in the air.
It is the women’s turn. I walk out the door.
I get in my car. The man looks gruff over the roof of his car and mumbles in an outdoor voice to the post office.
I reverse + drive out through empty parking spaces. I do not enter the man’s aura of hate again.
Accomplished, I puff out my chest like a marmot on a rock as I crank the heat for my 12-minute drive.
I give a small “thanks!” wave to the lady, who is on her way having completed her task, too.
Next stop: The Ugly Mug local coffee shop.
“One coffee for here, please.”
I’ve been taking my anxiety out for small meals this year. Enjoying a moment with no to-dos— just to sip.
When did we get so soft? Why do we give up so fast? When did leaving home become a chore?
In my old-lady research, I found a youtube interview with a centenarian.
Her yoga teacher made it in 2019. They sit together at the park and chat. It’s not very pro-fesh, or riveting, so I’ll consolidate:
She says sometimes she’s bored. I bet. A simple life for 100 years. She thinks it’s weird that there’s so much junk food at the grocery store. She doesn’t like how much time her 22 grandchildren spend on the phone. She tends her own garden. There’s one flower patch without irrigation so she goes out to check most days. She preps her own food and freezes some meals for later. She plans one thing outside the house most days. She exercises her ankles, arms, and shoulders in her bed every morning before rising. Also, she does 15 situps every day.
What’s the point of living til 100 if we’re going to be a grouch potato? The post office is closed on Saturday. So what? That’s why they made the DIY box. It’s okay to have to put some muscle into something, especially when someone else is going to carry it the whole way.
Life was really really hard — not that long ago!
Much of life is choosing to say no to the poison berries and yes to the good berries.
Try Something New Every Month is Dobedo.io‘s signature program.
We made Try Something New Every Month to help get you out of your comfort zone.
One thing we did this month to play along is finally joining the conversation online with a proper blog. (instead of just scrolling through your persy InstaTock stash every day.)
This year we’re moving forward.
We’re starting where we are with what we’ve got. We’re meeting people in person again. We’re performing when it’s time and relaxing when it’s not. We’re trying new things. We’re doing it scared and calling it fear instead of stress because the latter is probably a cop-out.
We’re saying hello first, deciding to decide, and sometimes stopping strangers on the street to say,
“Hey … We’re wearing the same shoes.”
I have yet to hear a man ask for advice on how to combine marriage and a career.”– Gloria Steinem, feminist journalist and social activist
What is the music you hear saying to you?
Do we stay put or do we go towards the enchanted door at the top of the stairs?
My name is called. I put down the highlights magazine and walk up to the next step.