Many signs in my path the past few days.
Sign One: I lost my subway pass, the one I kept in a nifty little ID case along with my former office ID. I’ve had that thing for years, kept it even after I left the office job. I derived great pleasure by looking at the smirking girl in the photo ID and saying to myself, “You are so not her anymore.”
But I have no idea how I lost the ID, and more importantly the pass with $30 on it. I don’t lose things like that.
Sign Two: Two months ago, Restaurant Gal Son and I stopped in the local grocery store to buy essentials–Doritos, cheese dip, milk for cereal, three bottles of wine and a six of beer. Yes, he is of age. But they carded ME. Oh happy day, dance of joy, please somebody take a photo of me showing the photo ID!
Yesterday, I decided a two-hour walk was in order. One hour to the place to get my hair trimmed, one hour back. Which still left plenty of time for heading to work in the afternoon. I was almost carefree about my morning “off.” Until I bought coffee at a fast food spot and the clerk smiled as she handed me my order, saying, “I gave you the senior discount on the coffee.”
OH MY GOD.
I knew it. The six days a week, 10- to 14-hour days are causing me to age before my and everyone else’s eyes.
Sign Three: My hairdresser, who I adore and who has been trimming my locks for years, commented a year ago when I started in this business, “Well, it agrees with you. You look like a teenager.” Today he said, “Sweetie you look tired. And your hair is way too long, it’s pulling your face down.” My quarter-inch trim ended up being a three-inch off bob of sorts, “To take ten years off,” he added.
Crap. The hairdresser doesn’t lie.
Sign four: The few bitchy guests on Saturday night should have provided great fodder for a post. But I could barely raise one eyebrow over their self-entitled comp requests (If you have to ask for one…). Who cares about them? I have bigger fish to fry–me.
Sign five: MY GM revealed that he and his girlfriend broke it off a few days ago, which is sad. Since then, he’s had two run-ins–totally out of the blue–with former girlfriends he hasn’t seen or thought of in years. Okay, not a sign for me, but it is for him–and it’s kind of weird, yes?
Sign 624: I didn’t laugh, didn’t event crack a smile at the madness Saturday night, our busiest yet. I just wondered: “Is it almost over? Can I finally call it a night?”