Its been about five weeks since I’ve been off work due to la broken foot. For those of you that know me well, this might come as a bit of a shock (though an amusing one) but I miss going to work. It’s not something I consciously acknowledged. Its something that just hit me a couple of weeks ago. I couldn’t place my finger on what exactly it was that I missed.
I have been living the life of a certified couch potato blogger. I wake up
at 11:30 in the morning whenever I so please, eat prepared (but healthy) microwaved meals and even manage to suck the sympathy from my friends for this useless, non-contributing lifestyle whenever an opportunity arises. There is really nothing to complain about.
What was it about work did I miss?
Maybe I missed waking at 5:30am and commuting an hour and a half? (I don’t know. Give me a minute to think…)
Maybe I missed ultrasounding old people’s groins and feet? (Jury’s out on this one too…)
Maybe I missed being too tired to have a social life? (This is harder than I thought)
Or maybe I just missed coming home after a 12 hour work day only to find that there is no hot water for a shower? (I think we found a winner)
Sarcasm aside, the many things that I didn’t miss about work were blocking me from figuring out what I did miss. I missed pay cheques, I missed joking around with my favorite patients and I missed the satisfaction that only I enjoyed when I folded a pillowcase to perfection. But wonderful as these things were, it wasn’t enough to actually miss the everyday routine.
It wasn’t until one morning a couple of weeks ago that I finally figured it out. I woke up one morning at 8am desperately needing to pee. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep until the deed was done so I strapped on my boot cast and hobbled over to the bathroom.
And it was on this fateful journey from bed to bath, right there in the middle of my basement apartment when I smelt the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee from upstairs that I came to enlightenment to what I was missing.
I missed the day-changing experience of drinking a cup of coffee. It probably also explained why my body felt that there was no reason to be up so early in the morning…or be up in the morning at all. Apart from having nothing to do, there was no coffee to accompany idleness.
Now that I knew what was missing, I also realised that there was nothing I could do about it. The nearest Starbucks was a 10 minute walk if you had two legs, a 90 minute walk if you had one and a half leg and a $7.00 cab ride if you walked on your hands.
What’s more, I had committed the ultimate sin by not having a coffee maker at home, a fact that horrified a lot of coffee drinkers. But if not having a coffee maker was a crime, then it was a crime only second to drinking instant to pacify the withdrawal. Yes, I drank instant. But it was a low point in my life and I’d rather not talk about it.
I related my plight to my good friend Serena. Serena who laughed at one instant and was overcome by pity in the next, vowed that I would have a coffee maker by the end of the week to put my caffeine-less misery to an end. I waited for the end of the week like a first time expectant mother waits a week before her due date…with excitement and anxiety.
Where would I put my new coffee producing baby? Could I actually handle one? Would I be able to take care of it so it gives me joy for at least the first 18 years of its life?
The day before my boxed bundle of joy was to arrive, I cleaned out the top of my microwave. This was where my coffee maker would stand. I even cleaned the insides of my microwave, although this had nothing to do with the coffee maker I thought I might as well since I was on a roll.
The big day finally arrived. As soon as Serena came, she tore off the plastic and began washing the pot. We ran water through the filter and mounted it on the microwave. But soon I realised that this was not the perfect place for it. The cord was shorter than my hair. There was no way I would be able to plug it in unless I had an extension cord, which, for some reason I didn’t have lying around.
“No worries”, I said dryly and placed it on the floor which is where it has been for the last few days.
These days I wake up at socially acceptable hours of the morning. My daily cup keeps me company while I check my email and waste time on Facebook.
I still haven’t found an appropriate place for the coffee maker without having to succumb to an extension cord. My microwave top however, still remains empty and spotless.
Somedays I look at my coffee maker and wonder how I ever lived without it. It was sort of like discovering the love of your life was the guy next door. You may have exchanged the first smiles of the day with each other every morning but you never would have realised how he perked up your life until you broke your foot and he had to come inside your home and give you a reason to wake up (at a respectable hour) every morning.
I can only hope that when I meet the actual love of my life, he’ll be just as comfortable in the kitchen.