November, 2014

Nov 1, 2014

I woke up early this morning and made my way to the gym.  I needed to clear my mind from the anxiety I was feeling over attending the Fall Ball with Arthur, and heard that yoga was a wonderful way to center.   Turns out, I only needed 10 minutes of stretching before I was ready to call Arthur and tell him I was unavailable to attend.  Yet, when I returned home I was incapable of telephoning the disappointing news.  Instead I hid inside my closet, buried knee deep in regret and tension.   I laid down amongst my shoes and laundry, and silently prayed for Arthur to fall ill.  After hours of inaction the time finally came for me to find a scintillating outfit that covered my disgusting scabs.

I chose a hideous floor length bridesmaid gown that I had worn at my cousin Molly’s wedding.  It was a completely inappropriate color, sky blue, and had an utterly unflattering silhouette.  I wore it, regardless, as nothing else covered the crusty sores on my legs, along with shoulder-length gloves.  While in stall in the bathroom I heard myself described by others as a robin’s egg.  After I emerged from the ladies room, Arthur sensing my insecurity, called me a beautiful box from Tiffany’s.  Because of this, I let him kiss me on the lips, at the end of the night.  It felt magical, most likely because he was now “forbidden fruit”.

I called Ohranj 3 times.  I did not receive a call back, as of yet.


Nov 2nd, 2014

I spent the morning nursing my scratches with topical steroid cream, while enjoying a pumpkin spice latte.  I stared intently at the cup, dreaming of the day that I finally have Expresso up and running.  I contemplated calling my parents, asking for a small loan, but am apprehensive.  My sister is a world class scrounger and I would sooner kill myself than sink to her level of beggary.

Tamar came over and divulged her weekend escapades, while we nourished our bodies with pizza.

I called Ohranj twice.


Nov 3rd, 2014

Today, at the office, I did the following at my desk: I enjoyed 3 beef empanadas, clipped and filed my fingernails, styled my hair, and advised visitors requesting directions to the restrooms that we were a “lavatory-free” facility.  About seventy-five percent of the visitors called my bluff.  For those, I followed up with directions, but conveniently forgot to hand them the key needed for restroom access.  I shall not stop this behavior until there is equality in the office, or at the very least, reimbursement for my stolen Mary Kay cosmetics.


Nov 4th, 2013

I am developing a deep concern for Ohranj.  I believe that he suffers from telephonophobia.  I have called him repeatedly since Friday night, and I have yet to hear back from him.  I sent him a private Facebook message assuring him that I would neither criticize nor make a fool of him during our conversation and that he should feel at ease about telephoning me back.  While I don’t want to enable his telephone avoidance behavior, I would like to find out when he will be dumping Christy for good.

In other news, Ethan Baker called the office today, inquiring about a ring that may be buried somewhere in his mother’s old office.  It belonged to his great-grandmother, and his mother’s sister had been harassing him and his father for the trinket.  I noted that I hadn’t seen such a treasure, but that his best bet would be to search the office, so that he and I could take a look together.  I have purposefully neglected to inform Patrick in HR of Ethan’s request, in the hopes that while searching for the ring, I may find a clue or even the culprit that took all my Mary Kay cosmetics.

When I got home, I laid out a beautiful ensemble to wear for Ethan’s arrival.  I chose an impactful all-red skirt suit.  The suit is much brighter than I would normally wear to the office, but I honestly feel that I must make a dress-code exception.  I’m getting too old to let potential suitors pass me by simply because of my superior dress code.


Nov 5th, 2014

Ethan Baker is gorgeous.  I studied his face quite closely while he was rummaging through Jenny’s old file cabinets and desk.  His best feature is, hands down, his dark brown eyes.  They are uncommonly large and stormy, expressing every thought that passes through his mind.  His lashes are nothing short of luxurious and I imagine that they must be quite apt at keeping out the Afghan desert sand.  His looks don’t end there.  The bridge of his nose is strong and his very pink lips seem to always be just slightly open, even though his jaw appears to be closed.  Something about that makes him look as though he is getting ready to whisper, “come closer”, without him saying anything at all.  I do however, have concerns about his intelligence level.  While he exhibited no signs of ineptitude, he stood rather like a blockhead when I invited him to arch.  I can’t spend the rest of my life with a man that I stupefy any time I open my mouth.

We didn’t have any luck finding his dead mother’s ring or any trace of my cosmetics.

My archery lesson was, again, enrapturing.  I hit my telos almost 100 percent of the time.  I also, almost arrowed the instructor Jerry, but I truly believe that there was a sudden gust of wind that caused the miscalculation.

I checked my Facebook, hoping for a response from Ohranj, but received nothing.


Nov 6th, 2014

My life is basically over.  All purpose is gone.  I received the following private message from O on Facebook.

“Iris –

Your constant contact must stop.  I can’t imagine why it is that you have not gotten through your thick brain that I am no longer interested in a relationship with you, so let me be clear:  I no longer want to be with you.  I find you impossible to deal with.  You show up at my home, when you haven’t been invited, I see you sneaking around places that Christy and I are patroning, and am fully aware of all the false Facebook profiles you have created, in order that you somehow find out more information about my relationship with Christy.  If it’s information you are searching for, well then, here it is.  Christy and I are in love.  Yes, love.  And I’m not talking about the type of love that you and I shared – she understands that when you love someone, you don’t try to change them or mold them into the prince that you always hoped that you would marry.  For the last 10 years, I have been tormented by you, constantly trying to live up to your impossible standards.  Well those days are over.  And in case your empty and lonely life is not clue enough for you, here is a bit of advice.  You are not perfect either.  When I was with you, many times, I hoped for you to just shut up.  That dream eventually grew into wishing you were not in the room, finally snowballing into out of my life. I have worked very hard to forget about you, and my wish is that you stop reminding me that you are still here.”

I want to die.  Anything is better than the pain I’m currently experiencing.  I would prefer to be sitting next to the deadliest farter on earth, while standing neck high in oozing, festering feces.  At least that way, I would eventually be overcome by noxious fumes.  I fear that my strong, albeit broken, heart shall keep me alive for many years to come, causing me to live another 60 plus plagued years.


Nov 7th, 2014

I have decided to retaliate against Ohranj’s vile and offensive message.  If archery has taught me anything, it’s that it takes much more than one arrow to win an end, and many ends to win a competition.  I sent this private message:

“Dear Ohranj,

Your hyperborean message has neither damaged my psyche nor deadened my pursuit for greatness.  I will continue to move forward while you bungle your life, with only one minor change.  Instead of you, I will keep by my side gentlemen that do not require perpetual handholding and prodding in order to live up to their full potential.  I’m currently being courted by a world traveler as well as an American soldier, both of which are very much enlightened and enamored with me.   They believe me to be fun and flirty and admire my ability to capture the attention of CEO’s and other powerful men in the world, without having to exploit my body. 

Au reste, I will have you know, that I am embarking on a journey in which many are envious.  I have invented coffee cup stickers which reflect the undercurrents of one’s feelings and soul and have called these self-adhesives, “Expresso”.  Imagine a person being handed a cup of their favorite coffee, then affixing an Expresso sticker revealing “I feel _______” to their toasty drink.  The individual will then take a selfie with their coffee cup to post to their online social accounts revealing their emotion at that exact moment.  Yes, O, you have just been given a glimpse into the future of interactive, social, coffee drinking and its been invented by ME, the woman of which you wish were never reminded.   In fact, if I had my stickers on store shelves right now, the selfie I would post with my Expresso sticker would say, “I am feeling Victorious” as I have no doubt that these stickers will be so popular, that banishing me from your memory will be a lesson in futility.  Yes, O, everywhere you turn on the street and on the internet, you will have a little colorful sticker staring you in the face, reminding you of the one person that was willing to love you forever.  Lastly, I believe I shall become just as powerful and rich as your ancestors from this invention. You scorn me for my drive and pursuit, conveniently forgetting that your family’s riches were obtained from exactly the type go-getter I am.  Vodka doesn’t sell itself, Ohranj.

Speaking of your grandparents and parents, I wish I could be a fly on the wall when they meet your current fling, Christy.  Tell me, Ohranj, is there a word in Russian for “Hoggish” or “Beastly?” 

I’m sorry, but I do have to run, my male suitors have been non-stop calling, while I type.”


Nov 8th, 2014

I reached out to Arthur, early this morning.  I admitted to him that the week flew by much more quickly than expected and that I deeply regretted not having contacted him earlier.  He sounded grateful and asked if I would like to do something this very night.  I jumped at the chance, despite the fact that I had scratched about 50 new pustules into my torso over the course of the last 2 days.


Nov 9th, 2014

Despite having a lovely evening with Arthur, I woke up in extreme agony.  Every bone and muscle in my body has been stricken with a viral or bacterial infection.  I’m certain that had I not fallen asleep in radical distress I would have woken up in the pink of condition, instead of crawling on my hands and knees in and out of the bathroom.  I am cursing myself for falling asleep thinking about my back and forth communication with Ohranj.

Arthur came over and brought me soup, which, as much as I appreciated it, caused a worsening in my condition.  I asked him to leave, as politely as I could manage, and then called my mother, insisting she bring me over her homemade meatloaf.  She took mercy on me, coming as quickly as she could.  I sobbed, uncontrollably revealing both Ohranj’s private message and my response to my mother while her meat baked.  She held me as I sneezed and sobbed.

When the meatloaf was thoroughly browned, I tearfully dined while my mother instructed me on the Z-Pak regimen to follow, since the medication came from Mexico.  My mother, while always good at tending to my maladies, also, predictably, brought over a couple bottles of wine.  She poured hefty quantities of god’s nectar, ensuring that we both fell into wine-induced comas.


Nov 10th, 2014

I dragged at a snail’s pace all day at work today.  I told anyone that would listen that I was severely overworked now that I was doing my dead boss’ duties, but no one seemed to believe me.  In fact, I heard whisperings that I appeared hung over.  When I questioned a coworker about it, I was brazenly told that my shirt was on inside out and my shoes did not match.  I was mortified.  I ran to the bathroom in humiliation and took a long hard look at myself in the mirror.   I vowed to never again let a broken heart and a possible infection turn me into a mongrel. While I fixed my shirt instantly, there was nothing I could do about my pumps, other than wait for lunch to go buy a new pair of power loafers.

Later, when I arrived back home, my mother was lying on my couch, in the midst of all my used Kleenex.  She was eating a corn dog, in her usual disgusting fashion.  She had the habit of pulling off the cornmeal shell, dipping it in yellow mustard, then dropping the bread-like pieces into her mouth with her greasy fingers.  The remainder, the foul-smelling wiener, usually reserved for her dog, Iffy, was lying limply on her plate as she had removed the stick that dignified people use to eat their corn dog.  She asked me to go get her a Coke and I obliged, only so that she would have the energy to leave.  My mother, while irreplaceable, has the uncanny ability to always over stay her welcome, usually due to high levels of intoxication.

Eventually, she called my father to come have dinner with us A.K.A., play chauffeur for the night.  He arrived about an hour later with Thai take-out.  As we sat down to dinner, he asked how I was feeling.  I smugly retorted that I was feeling better, but not as well as I could feel, had anyone mentioned to me prior to leaving for the office, that my shirt was disheveled and my shoes were mismatched.  My mother snickered and told me I needed to have a better sense of humor.  I excused myself from the the kitchen table to go to my bedroom and read an imaginary book.


Nov 11, 2014

I woke up this morning to a complete catastrophe in the living room.  My mother had rifled through my Mary Kay Fall Cosmetic collection and left it up to me to clean up after her little soiree.  I methodically put every eye shadow, blush, and lipstick back into my glamor kit, carefully noting everything she slathered on her face so that I could calculate her bill.  I have repeatedly informed her that my beauty-aid products are for my sales, not samples for her entertainment.

After I totaled everything, I tacked on an extra $100 to the bill, in order that I recoup some of my losses from the theft perpetrated against me.  I sent the sales receipt to her via email for documentation purposes.

I used the guise of Veteran’s Day to call Ethan Baker.  He is adjusting to life without his mother, but still sounded quite upset.   Despite my best attempts to lure him into a date with me, I was unable to get him to budge on his plans for the evening.  I have only a short two week period before he gets deployed back to Afghanistan.  I must pull out all the stops, if I am to romance him into my arms.


Nov 12th, 2014

I received a return email from my mother stating she needed an itemized receipt, showing exactly what beauty-aids she “bought” for $231.  She then requested I drop off the used Mary Kay cosmetics after work, so that she could compare the used make-up with the receipt.    Sensing perturbment in the tone of her email, I immediately responded that I would, as a favor to her, swap out all the make-up with which she experimented, with brand new, unopened shades for a total of $231.   Then I mentioned I would use the cosmetics she sampled for parties as testers.  She then retorted if I was going to use the makeup she sampled as testers for parties, then why make her pay?

I contemplated going home and damaging more eye shadows, blushes, and lip colors in order for her order to be worth the $231 I charged her before I decided to throw in the towel, fess up to an accounting error, and drop off the cosmetics she actually sampled, for a total of $131.   It seems that my mother has uncannily clear thinking for a world-class drunk.

After work, I gathered the products she sampled, threw them in a plastic bag and took a bus over to her house.  When I arrived, she had a bill for the Z-Pak she brought over to me.  I promised to pay her the next time I saw her, walked out the door, and shoved the slip into a neighbor’s mailbox.

On the bus ride home, I called Arthur.  Then I called Ethan.  Neither of them answered my call.  I spent the rest of the ride fuming about my smug mother.


Nov 13th, 2014

I woke up, yet again, to the realization that I missed an archery lesson due to stress and frustration with humankind.

I sat at my desk shivering for the better part of the day which soured my mood even further.  I swear, if I don’t get Expresso off the ground and running soon I’m going to I’m going to slide into a rapid decline.  I must get off this road to ruin.


Nov 14th, 2014

Another Expresso breakthrough!  Up until now, I had envisioned Expresso stickers that were sleek, innovative, and thrilling in design.  The phrasing, on the other hand, was basic and sensible.  I didn’t want drinker’s expressions to be convoluted with murky language.   It has always been my belief that the root of communication is clarity.  Because of this, I was content with, “I feel ________.”    I hadn’t considered anything more elegant or clever, that is, until today.

Today, I have created a rebirth of Expresso, an Expresso, that is for the more sophisticated coffee drinker.  The new phrasing is, “I drink, therefore I am __________”.  Yes! It’s a wonderful pun on Descartes’ philosophical statement, “Je pense, donc je suis; I think, therefore I am”.

The whole idea came to me, when, in a moment of boredom, I presupposed the statement, an unfinished sentence.  Perhaps Rene was a slow speaker, and what he really meant to say was, “I think, therefore I am sad”  or “I think therefore I am happy.”  Linking that thought with Expresso, was the next logical step.

I’m amazed that it has taken me up until this very moment to imagine this upgrade to Expresso, given the word sleuth that I am.


Nov 15th, 2014

Arthur called me early in the afternoon, wondering if I was available to see him tonight.  I instantly agreed, as I must occupy my time and mind with something other than Ohranj.  I admit, I’m still torn up over our Facebook correspondence, however I have resolved not to contact him or look at any of his social media until after he reaches out to me.  Waiting for him to establish a connection with me seems like an eternity.

I spent the latter part of the afternoon deleting the imposter Facebook accounts I used to pry into Ohranj’s latest fling.  Really, that was all for the best anyway.  I felt as though perfectly lovely strangers were beginning to fall for my jocular characters.

Arthur picked me up at 7 P.M.  He carefully walked up to my door, as before, but this time looked less odd, as it was snowing.  I dashed to the door, but then changed my pace after walking through the threshold, as I didn’t want to walk ahead, as though I thought I was better.  I was quite shocked to arrive to his car, which was a minivan.  He fully explained that he needed something that would adequately support his wine deliveries.


Nov 16th, 2014

I woke up with Arthur on my mind.  Can he be sneaking into my heart? I have to say, while I have been searching for someone with whom to share my life and dreams, I did not expect it to be anyone other than Ohranj.  But by simply opening my eyes and heart, I have found a true gentleman in Arthur.  I guess it’s true; love, like a butterfly, settles upon you when you least expect it.


Nov 17th, 2014

Arthur, Arthur, Arthur!  I can’t stop dreaming about his piercing azure eyes and his complex smile.   I after spending Sunday, carefully considering all of his aspects and attributes, I have fallen deeply in love.  Where to start?  His dashing good looks?  His winning personality?  His chivalrous tendencies?

Arthur is possibly the most well schooled man I have ever met.  When I earnestly asked about his favorite place in the world, his soul flowed about the exotic locations he’s visited and the amazing archeological sites he had the pleasure of viewing, but confessed that he’s most happy and content at the Sulzer public library.  He said he loves wandering through the stacks without regard, content to select whichever book is in front of him when his feet decide to stop moving.  He’s read, possibly, thousands of books.  While he is non-discriminate on what type of book he chooses, he acknowledged he reads history most often.

Despite all this time spent at the library, Arthur is not the least bit bookish.  His build, slender indeed, is muscular, even though he carries himself lightly.  I suspect a spectacular metabolism is to blame for his tone.  One would believe that if he worked out, he might walk at a slightly amped pace.  He did mention that he would love to arch with me which will indeed be a fine way to measure his athletic prowess.  I can almost imagine my arms around waist, holding his posture firm, while he fires his first arrow.  It will be a treasured moment.

I went to Facebook to find a way to express that a love is blossoming, without having to declare myself officially in a relationship.


Nov 18th, 2014

Getting to the office was abysmal today.  The temperature has fallen beyond what a human of my size and stature can stand.  Furthermore, all aspects of my winter wardrobe, from hat to boot, scream amateur.  My jacket is puffy, my hat knit, my boots purple.  My mother bought me an entire winter ensemble last Christmas and the only word that I can think of to describe the style is artless.   When I finally arrived to the office, freezing despite wearing my winter warmest, I peeked into the office, grabbed the key for the lady’s room, and then scrunched my jacket, hat, and boots into my archery bag.  After going to my desk I called the building’s maintenance team and requested they retrieve the bag and incinerate it.

I called Arthur to see if he was available to pick me up after work.  He didn’t return my call, so I was forced to ask the slender-fingered Eric to drive me to Macy’s in order that I select a proper winter ensemble.  All in, I spent over $600.  By the time I got home I had an absolutely vomitous feeling.  Leave it to my mother to give me a gift that ends up costing more than I have in the bank. I swear, no one but me would be out of pocket because of a gift.


Nov 19th, 2014

More unwelcome bad luck.  I took the train all the way to my archery lesson, only to find out the session I registered for expired last week!  I had no choice to play off my visit as an exploratory expedition for research into a book I’m writing.  I fear now that I will have to maintain this falsehood for weeks, if not months.  The only glimmer of hope is that the new session of archers are all simpletons; mostly soon to be hunters or young teenagers in love with the Hunger Games.  I’m hoping that they shall forget about my book proclamation before the holidays.

I called Arthur once in the afternoon and again in the evening but still haven’t heard as much as a peep out of him.  He did mention that he traveled significantly during the week, but I can’t imagine that excludes him from calling me or sending me a simple text.  His lack of attention these last couple days may tug my heart back into the abyss that used to be filled with intense love and pleasure, but as of late is lonely, cold, and filled with stone.


Nov 20th, 2014

I had to remind myself today that the road to success is bumpy.  I have focused much to much on men and money and not enough time refreshing my memory that by this time next year I will be richer than I ever imagined I could be.  Since September, when Expresso first entered my consciousness, I have grown ten fold.  I have a stylish new hair style and color, I developed and nurtured three major corporate dress codes (office attire, workout clothing, and outerwear), begun the thrilling art of archery, designed sleek and authoritative Expresso stickers, and brought the wording on the stickers to an elevated level.  When I look at myself even with a critical eye, I feel at peace.

I guess Thanksgiving has come a week early for me, which is really for the best, because the actual holiday will be a complete bust having to be forced to spend time with my undesirable family.


Nov 21st, 2014

I entered the office today with my head held high, in prideful spirits.  It’s much easier to enter in an agreeable mood, when you know that your days there are numbered.

I heard from Arthur, relatively early in the day where we agreed to meet at my house later that night.  Arthur suggested we stay in, and enjoy dinner and a movie, to which I was quite agreeable.  Arthur made it over around 7 P.M., and was exactly as expected.  He conversated under his usual guise of wonderment and eloquence and tenderly focused on me. But once we finished our delivery pizza and the movie commenced,  Arthur did the most despicable thing.    He strolled to my kitchen and after a couple minutes of scavenging through my cupboard and refrigerator, he waltzed back into the living room dipping huge stalks of celery into a disgusting amount of vinegar and oil.  I was completely repulsed, so much that I was forced to take a shower in order that I drown out the methodical crunching and acid stench.

I stayed in the shower longer than usual in order to ensure Arthur had finished the celery stalks he found in my fridge.  When I joined him again in the living room, he had disrobed and pulled out my Hide-A-Bed, clearly expressing his intentions of staying over night.  I insisted he, at the very least, swish and gurgle, but the damage was already done.   I tried to say good night and retire to my bedroom, but Arthur insisted I lie next to him on the pull-out.  I complied, but I was thinking about both Ohranj and Ethan before my eyes closed for the night.


Nov 22, 2014

I woke up in a complete fog this morning, having slept not more than an hour on my uncomfortable Hide-A-Bed with Arthur.  I was either busy defending my chastity or my share of the blankets the entire night.

Arthur on the other hand, when not groping at my body, slept like a baby and woke up with the vigor of a cheetah.  He rose, made both he and me a cup of coffee and whipped up a batch of bread pudding.  While the egg batter and bread was resting in the refrigerator he took a shower. Yes, blog, I thought he was getting altogether too comfortable in my house, however, I was willing to forgive both the celery incident and use of my shower because he was, after all, making me  delightful breakfast.  However, after he transferred the bread pudding casserole into my oven, Arthur, for all practical purposes, drove the first nail into our relationship coffin.   He logged on to Fitness Blender, an online workout site, and yoga-ed, thus ensuring our relationship over.

I have never been so disgusted this early in a relationship. First of all, he contorted his body into all sorts of indecent positions in nothing more than his boxer briefs.  His man parts were too snugly contained, forming a perfectly outlined portrait of what lied beneath.  And because his legs, arms, and chest were exposed, I was given the privilege of watching him tremble like a fawn just learning to walk. Secondly, while his face and body grimaced, little globules of sweat dripped into my carpet thus creating an ideal breeding ground for germs and other microscopic vermin.  As if that were not enough, he eventually developed a sweat stain that moistened his boxer briefs from the small of his back all the way down to his anus.  Lastly, all the while this was happening, he was grunting, groaning, and gasping like a Neanderthal would during coitus.  His post workout shower consisted of nothing more than drying off with one of my fine towels, then sitting down on one of my beloved kitchen chairs, while he refueled with water and the bread pudding.   He hadn’t even the decency to put on his pants.

He scuttled away shortly after, thus leaving me alone to start the vile task of spot cleaning both my carpet and chair.

I had always assumed that eventually I would become a master yogi, but frankly, after witnessing the carnal display that Arthur put on, I would sooner drink acid than practice yoga in public.


Nov 23rd, 2014

I woke up early and did my weekly shopping. My visit to CVS was rewarded with an ExtraBucks coupon, which I meticulously entered into my iCal notifications, using extra caution when checking the expiration date.  I shall not allow myself to be caught with my pants down at the cash register holding an invalid coupon ever again.

Tamar came over a little later and we lamented what I should do about Arthur.  On the one hand, there is no way our relationship can blossom further as his sweaty, awkward, flailing, almost-naked body has been forever seared into my memory, but I do not want to prematurely cut off contact as he could be a useful pawn in leveraging a relationship with either Ohranj or Ethan.  I let Tamar surf Arthur’s Facebook page and after much deliberation, she determined that I should continue with Arthur, but in order to keep things from progressing, I should only rendezvous with Arthur at group gatherings.  She then suggested we invite some of our nearest and dearest to a cocktail social on Wednesday night.  Our list of invitees included: Kennedy Johnson, Amanda Dahl, Adam Sousa, Ethan Baker, Ohranj Julius, and Arthur Knipp.   The plan is almost too perfect.  Now I simply have to find something desirable to wear while dangling myself in front of Ethan and Ohranj.


Nov 24th, 2014

The most tragic of events has happened!  After sending out an Evite to the cocktail social for this Wednesday, I received word back that Ethan Baker would be unable to attend as he, just like his mother, has been struck by an automobile.  I could hardly read through my tear filled eyes.  I asked Patrick in HR if there was any possible way I could leave the office in order to be by Ethan’s side, but he insisted that I wait until after 5 P.M., before I ran to aid my dear friend.  I sourly sat at my desk counting down the hours.  At 4:50pm, I scribed a note, outlining the amount of phone calls and visitors that came to the office since I was informed of the disastrous news and placed it on Patrick’s desk.  Phone calls: 0.  Visitors: 0.  I then gently reminded Patrick that time can pass up to five times more slowly when one is in the hospital and longing for comfort.

My poor Ethan is in rough shape.  Seeing him lying there suffering tied my stomach in such knots that my appetite was killed for the rest of the night.  I vowed to Ethan that I would visit every day, but the poor soul was so beaten that he was unable to have even the slightest of reactions.

I’m on the verge of transplanting the cocktail social to the hospital.


Nov 25th, 2014

I arrived to a menacing email from Patrick at the office today.  It read:

Iris –

Thank you for your note.  I made a copy of it and placed it on the desk of our CFO this morning.  We will take your input under consideration when budgeting for FY2015.  Please accept this email of official notice that your position is currently under evaluation for the upcoming year.



I was sacked with rage!  Are we living in a world where one cannot put their thoughts down on paper without it becoming a perpetration against their livelihood? This was just one more cow chip to add to the muck that is backlogging my mind.   I’m beyond worried about Ethan’s health and I’m knee deep in hospital red tape as I’m doing my best to get the cocktail social that Tamar and I scheduled for Wednesday night moved to the ICU.  I have nothing to wear to said cocktail social and to top it all off, Ohranj has not even RSVP’d as of yet!  Does he know how extremely rude this is?

Obviously, after receiving Patrick’s email, I was in the absolute wrong state of mind to be retorting.  However, because of my high stress level, clarity eluded me.  I fired back an email in which I gave official notice of my intention to resign once Expresso was up and running.  Further I challenged Patrick to have fun filling the void with a more stylish and dedicated professional that doesn’t mind doing the job of both the receptionist and the dead office manager.

Now that I am at home, meditating in front of a candle and gently scratching my stomach, it has occured to me that I should have simply sent another note to be added to the CFO’s file which consisted of fabricated phone call and visitor statistics.  Thus tomorrow, I shall have to shlep to the office in the cold, send off the email I should have sent in the first place, and eat crow.  Thank god Thursday and Friday are work holidays.


Nov 26th, 2014

I was dreading going into the office today, but my meeting with Patrick turned out to be the most pivotal moment of my life to date. It was my intention to confess to Patrick that I believed I was still suffering from the sudden death of Jenny Baker and the email I sent to him was grief camouflaged in anger.  But to my great relief, he only wanted to talk about the new company I was starting, Expresso.  It was thrilling to share my new company with someone outside of my inner circle!  I admit, dear blog, that I even found myself picking Patrick’s brain about all things Human Resource for my new company.  He pressed me to clarify exactly when my last day would be, to see if perhaps there would be enough budget in FY2015 to keep me on board until I had planned to resign.  I informed him that at the latest, my last day would be April 1st.  The surge of emotion I felt upon speaking those words left my heart throbbing.

Patrick mentioned I would be free to leave the office a little early, since most would be out by 3 P.M.  I used that opportunity to purchase an alluring outfit for Tamar’s and my cocktail social.  I found a wonderful monochromatic blue suit skirt that I accessorized with a luxurious gold chain link necklace.  It was a bit pricey, but worth it, as today will be a celebrated day in the history of my success journey.  In fact, the cocktail social transformed into a congratulatory festival.  I was so intoxicated by sheer joy, that I hardly even noticed that Ethan and Ohranj were absent.


Nov 27th, 2014

Arthur and I woke up this morning on my Hide-A-Bed.  I was relieved to find myself still fully clothed in the blue skirt suit that I wore last night.   I hurried him out the door before he could start any kind of frenetic morning exercise routine.

After he kissed me good-bye, I excitedly took the bus over to my parents house to celebrate Thanksgiving.  I couldn’t wait to share the wonderful turn of events in my professional life with my mom, dad, and Maxine. However, my verve was quickly diffused, when after revealing my conversation with Patrick in HR, my mother openly snickered.  Her smugness momentarily transformed into sympathy so that she could gently reveal to me that she believed I had been outsmarted into quitting.  Then, just as quickly as before, her mood settled back into superciliousness.

I silently fumed while eating my Pesto Chicken.  Nothing is more ignoble to me than when the old bag gives me professional advice.  It wouldn’t surprise me to find out that she doesn’t even know how to turn on a laptop, much less how to negotiate her way through today’s fast-paced business world.

After dinner, Maxine and I were handed the odious task of cleaning the dishes while our parents snuggled on the couch with a bottle of wine.  Maxine complained about the current pinch in which she has placed herself.  Her latest boyfriend Ryan, whom apparently lived in the apartment above her, insisted she move to a building at least one train stop away if their relationship was to continue.  Like a dope, she complied and is now being pressed for rent from both landlords as she didn’t understand that she was obligated to pay rent at her old building, even if she wasn’t living there.  It is almost certain, that once Expresso is up and running, I will be assigned the task of permanent caretaker for my sister’s messed up affairs.

Eventually I grew tired and retreated to my old bedroom.  I haven’t the energy to take the bus back home.  Sleeping here shan’t be a complete loss however.  I will make good on the opportunity to get back at my mother by causally bringing up that Pesto Chicken is a completely inappropriate Thanksgiving meal tomorrow morning.


Nov 28th, 2014

Maxine woke up at the earliest possible hour to go shopping today.  Instead of tip toeing throughout the house while others slept, she stomped and clomped like an elephant that had just seen a mouse.  I sprung out of my bed after twenty minutes of restlessness, ran to the kitchen, and screamed for her to either take her shoes off or leave.  I was shocked to see my mother awake, pouring coffee into a travel mug, preparing to leave with her.  When did they plan this outing and why wasn’t I included?


Nov 29th, 2014

I waited all morning and afternoon for a call from my mother to invite me to go shopping with her before I decided to call Arthur.  I  had to clear my mind before I started scratching away my sorrow.  I never thought I would become estranged from anything or anyone, but here I am, unwelcome at work, unloved by Ohranj, and unwanted on family shopping excursions.

Arthur came over around 5 P.M., bearing a gift of chocolates.  I was so touched and moved by his compassion that I found myself a willing participant in his lovemaking dance.  I admit, his body soothed my tormented heart and I welcomed the warmth of his touch.  But afterwards, when we we lying together in my bed, I slumped back into my holiday blues.

Unable to tear myself away from Arthur’s pleasurable post-coital grasp, I was forced to reach for my iPhone in order to send my mother and sister a private message in which I pleaded with them to explain why I have been banished from their lives.  Normally, I would NEVER consider bringing any kind of electronics or battery operated device into my bed, but I had to make an exception due to my fragile state.


Nov 30th, 2014

I’m in absolute knots.  I cannot believe that I have allowed myself to sleep with a man other than Ohranj.   How will I ever justify this betrayal?  How will I ever be able to look at my one true love in the eye without being filled with shame?  I threw my sheets into the dumpster in the alley behind my apartment in order to forget my indiscretion, but it did no good.  All I could think about for the rest of the day was that I belonged in that dumpster too and if I were truly lucky, the garbage removal truck would crush me sooner rather than later in order that I become a permanent fixture in a vast wasteland of trash and feces.



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