Instant Zombie, Just Add Anesthesia

I think the dirty little secret is that, no matter how much a person may like their job, there is still a good portion of the populace that are not morning people. It fascinates me though that there is this unspoken rule about salutations in the morning.

A curt: “Hi there.”

The rhetorical, non- information seeking, and foreigner confusing: “How’s it going?”

The crazy friendly you-should-not-be-nearly-this-chipper: “Good morning there! Isn’t it a lovely day?” I’m convinced that these are the people that think in double and triple exclamation marks.

I’m a bleary-eyed “Mornin’” –er. I usually toss in a smile just to play the game even though I’m a hair away from growling. Until today, when my game got ruined.

I just come back from the dentist this morning and they had numbed my upper gums which seeped into all my smiling muscles. I would lift the bottom of my jowls and not too much else happened. It was a fun, creepy effect.

Of course at the doorway intersection into the back of the library, I had to run into someone, who took one look at my face and attempted a hesitant, “Good morning?”

My reply was a dead faced and more mumbling than usual, “Morning!” More mumbling than usual means that I’m positive that came out as a guttural noise and not English. [I may have asked for the third chicken on the left in Farsi, but I’m not sure.] Their steps quicken passed me and I touched my hand to my chest, looking back at the people I accidently snarled at. ‘There goes my long worked for morning mojo,’ I thought.

I then got an e-mail from R, “I saw you driving to work this morning. You looked so serious and grim; it made me smile at how much I dislike being awake in the morning.”

Speaking of R, I finally lured her to the dark side. We know R, right? The Rebuker? The gal that writes better comments that make my posts look dingy and sometimes even make them smell bad? Well, with power like that, she decided (with much prodding) that she needed her own blog. Would you go say hi to her? She’s writing like a philosophical bat out of hell already and I may need help while I catch up with my comments.

Advertisements

7 Responses to Instant Zombie, Just Add Anesthesia

  1. The Rebuker says:

    BRAAAIIINS. Sleep-addled BRAAAAIINS.

    Danke for the shout out! And it’s coincidental that you would mention a bat . . .

  2. a lee says:

    Naaaah. Don’t feel so bad.

    When I was eighteen, I had my wisdom teeth out. Since it was done under general anesthesia, my folks drove me home. Since it was in the nearest big city to where we lived, my mom asked if I wanted to do anything before we headed home.

    I was big into bicycling, and I knew that one of the bike stores had an employee I found especially cute. Genius that I was, I said I wanted to go there. So we did. And yep, she was working. And, in my purple-hazed mind, I felt gloriously comfortable walking right up and finally talking to her. I remember nothing that was said, but I do remember that she looked as though the entire conversation was painful for her.

    I should mention that immediately after leaving the surgeon’s office my folks had bought me a drink. A chocolate shake. A good portion of which— whenI returned to the car, wondered what went so terribly wrong in the store, and inspected myself in a mirror—was drawn into a giant brown “V” beginning at my lower lip and ending about mid-tummy.

    Yeah. I never went back to the bike shop again.

  3. strangerandstranger says:

    Morning people are over rated anyway right?

  4. thebutton says:

    Sorry A Lee, but that proves my point that decisions made after having wisdom teeth dug out of one’s mouth should be ignored. I decided to get a hair cut after mine. I ended up looking like a guy from behind.

    C, I do feel your pain. I remember living down the road from the dentist’s office and my mom working the evening shift. Latch key kid that I was, had to walk home from the dentist’s trying to avoid contact with anyone as I stumbled about and tried to keep drool from spilling out of my mouth. And mornings do suck. Mornings suck more when you have to wake up before the sun. Granted, the cheesy smile my son gives me when I lift him out of bed makes it worth it.

  5. A Lee says:

    memo, to self:

    following next surgery:

    1. flirting: no.
    2. hair cut: maybe.

  6. I’m amazed, I must say. Seldom do I come across a blog that’s equally educative and interesting,
    and without a doubt, you have hit the nail on the head.
    The issue is something not enough men and women are
    speaking intelligently about. Now i’m very happy I came across this during my search for something relating
    to this.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: