Sabotage – ch7

Setting my drink on the table I opened my backpack and removed the latest edition of The Week magazine. (Great weekly magazine by the way – and no I am not on their payroll.) I always start with section that is usually around page 10 which is a “people” section. I am reading and enjoying my iced coffee while also thinking to myself how fortunate celebrities have it. (I won’t digress about that now.) In the background the door dings off and on as people enter and leave the shop. The music – wait – “music” they have on now is really annoying and a couple people have sat at a little table in front of me and have determined that I and the others in the shop want to hear everything they are talking about. However they do not realize that they are dealing with a “professional café dweller” – mwah. I roll my eyes and reach into my backpack and pull out my pair of ear plugs (not your average ones – since I am a professional – mine our something like 90% noise reduction) which once I have put them in my ears I no longer here the two “people”, nor the dings, nor the “music” – just the ever-present ringing in my ears.

I turn to the front of the magazine and now am in the world of “The Week”.  Time disappears with every page I turn and I eventually look up when I am near the end of the magazine to see that an hour has passed (so has the two “people”). I removed the ear plugs, got my stuff together and was heading out the door when I bumped into Guy who is a guy from work. He is one of the few (can count on three fingers) that I could refer to as “normal/friendly”. We gave each other the nod (different from the coffee nod) and exchanged “see you on Monday – unfortunately” and parted ways. (Communication that guys can do that sum up fifteen minutes of uncomfortable female conversation and have a more beneficial result when it is over than many female exchanges. I know this to be true because I have a sister.)

Subconsciously I decided to drove the long way home (adding maybe 2 minutes) so I could pass the grocery store(Please note the word “subconsciously”). I was almost at the store when I realized what was happening, I looked at the clock – relieved that it was past their business house and then began to rebuke myself for this side track and subliminal sabotage. She was suppose to be a dead issue and I was suppose to be okay with that. I looked in the rear view mirror into my eyes and said “stop it idiot” and then glared at myself. All the good I had quietly harvested for myself since my reasonable decision and coffee time was quickly unravelled. I pulled in front of the apartment building, shut off the engine and once again looked at myself but this time I said nothing – my subconscious though decided to inform me “your reasons suck, just talk to her”. I looked away and got out of the car.