Post-Katrina Getaway

A Bit Frayed at the Edges
By
Debbie Lindsey

You know ya need a change of scene when a sleep-deprived early morning visit to the dentist feels like an outing. If the closest you get to a vacation is sitting in the dentist’s chair, forced to revisit the ‘80s by way of really bad Top 40 while staring at an utter waste of oil paint made to resemble a bucolic country side, with the obligatory creek running throughout – you need to change travel agents. You know you are tired, very tired, when you relax into the pretend nature and fall asleep despite the drill, suction tube and latex hand inside your mouth.
It has been a long 24 months that feels like 24 years. Boyfriend and I belong to the lucky few that lost nothing in terms of worldly possessions and never had to travel that Road Home. But ever since we returned in October of ’05, we have been working, working and working. Boyfriend is no stranger to long hours and long years – it was just part of being a chef. But me – now that’s a different story. I believed in working to live, not living to work. And my 27- to 35-hour workweek suited my needs just fine. Mind you, as a waitress, those hours could be brutal and challenging, but my free time was always there to lick my wounds.
As you may already know, we opened a cookbook shop and considering the economic landscape here nowadays, we ain’t doin’ too shabby. I have fallen in love with our little shop and while it’s a love child of our business union, it’s time for the child to start doin’ the dishes.
Speaking of dishes, I actually yearn for the free time to clean house. And when I take time away from the shop to work up a little sweat with my Electrolux, I feel anxious and guilty.
There are so many things I don’t do anymore – some I miss desperately; some I have just forgotten to miss. Going to the movies or a museum now seems too time consuming when those two hours could be used for: the vet, making groceries, Office Depot, the thrift store, recycling drop offs, dentist, doctor, and another vet visit before it’s all over. Oh, and don’t forget to walk the dog – she looks like she’s gonna pee right about now – and in walks a customer – and there goes another little puddle to clean up – again.
Multi-tasking, for me, is like performance art: sometimes I excel and then sometimes I dance myself into a corner. Lately, my back is bruised from dancing into corners. I know I am not alone. These days, it seems, everyone here is running on empty. Katrina? Yes, but in my case it’s the “we opened a new business/work seven days a week/plus, the rent paying jobs” syndrome. Fall into this lifestyle and ya hardly have time for a cocktail (not to worry, my doctor suggests Xanax).
Okay, my life is stylin’ compared to what’s dished out to most. I have a business that teaches me and stokes creativity. And I have the joy of sharing this with a man I love and a small herd of animals. But, smiling 24/7 through all the details has begun to make me a little cranky. Why, just take the other day…
There I was at my rent-paying-restaurant-job when a very nice customer complimented my smiling attitude. To which I replied, “Thanks, but on the inside I am cutting you up into tiny little pieces.” He seemed to think I was very funny. Yeah, right. So… since my Xanax didn’t seem to be doing the trick, I immediately made reservations for a mini-vacation.
Ever find yourself wanting to slap the daylights out of some sweet hapless tourist as they blithely comment, “…well, things seem to be getting back to normal”? Do you bite your tongue till it bleeds rather than risk words that can never ever be retrieved? Have you forgotten to take time to see, hear, feel any of the precious things that New Orleans has to offer? Do you wonder at least ten times a day, “Why the hell did I move back here?”
Yes?
Then, as the song advises: “Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again.”
Take my advice: don’t wait till you’ve hurt someone’s feelings or burned yourself out of a job you really like or need. Get away for a while and if money and time do not allow, then go to Audubon Park and sit under a tree. Too hot? Then lose yourself in a movie (not a NetFlix; I mean a real go-to-the-movies-and-eat-popcorn outing); lay by a pool for the day – sneak into a hotel pool if need be (these are desperate times that call for desperate measures). Just do something to head off going stark raving mad.
A complete meltdown is not something I expect to encounter, but to be on the safe side it’s time to take a chill pill, for I am truly beginning to melt at the edges. And that pill comes in the form of a trip to my beloved Fairhope on Mobile Bay.
A trip around the world couldn’t thrill me as much as swimming among a lifetime of memories in the waters of my hometown bay. I have almost forgotten what life outside the French Quarter is like. But we are about to remember! As soon as I hit spell check and wrap up this column, Boyfriend, the dogs and I will pack up all our cares and woes and hit the road, Jack. Bye, bye, black moods.
HYPERLINK mailto:Debbie@whereyat.net Debbie@whereyat.net