Monday, March 09, 2009

A Strange Weekend

I had a very strange weekend….

It all started on Saturday morning, when I woke up with a case of butter-fingers. I swear to god, every single object I tried to pick up…I dropped. And not only did I drop things, but my body coordination had about a 30 second delay to my brain coordination.

You should have seen me making coffee with my French press.

Every time I tried to add a scoop of coffee into the beaker, the scooper hit the rim of the glass; sending coffee grounds flying all over the kitchen. My entire kitchen-nook looked like it had snowed java.

And lets not even talk about shaving my face.

I dropped the razor twice, and nicked my face at least four times.

I had blood dripping from my chin, cheek, adam's apple, and the side of my nostril.

By the time I had finished, it looked like I had tried to commit suicide one feature at time.

And it didn’t stop there, because all day at work I was like a human tornado. While walking past one of the fragrance counters, my right shoulder hit a stack of gifts sets, which caused an avalanche of falling boxes. Then around midday, while talking to a customer, I accidentally backed into a glass display table; making all the perfume bottles hit the floor. Luckily, not one of them broke.

But I think there must have been something in the air this weekend, because I noticed that a lot of people at work were having this same issue.

At certain points throughout the day, you could hear the sounds of things crashing all over the department. Every half hour or so, you would hear SMASH! CRASH! BAM! SCREAM!…SMASH! CRASH! BAM! SCREAM!

And then all the employees would look at one another and say, “oops…not another one?!?”

I also noticed that there were more than the usual percentage of mentally insane customers walking through the store. Several times when I would approach a customer and say, “Hi, can I assist you?” They acted like I was saying, “Hi, I have herpes…can I kiss you?”

Another thing that made me feel strange this weekend, was the time change.

I know it’s only one hour, but for some reason, every time the clocks spring forward…I feel like I’m experiencing a six hour European jet lag.

All day at work yesterday, it felt as though my brain was filled with cotton balls. I felt tired, sluggish, cranky, and found myself acting like Joan Crawford whenever she saw a wire hanger.

In fact, there was a point when I had to put my hands in my pockets, because I seriously wanted to slap someone.

Gee…I wonder if part of this strange weekend had anything to do with experiencing what I like to refer to as the male version of P.M.S.

I.M.S.

Irritable Male Syndrome