Revolting Door

The flight back from the Sunshine State to the Revolting Door was bathed in sunshine pouring through the little windows of the airplane. With a mind and body notably calmer, a wisp of a smile in the corners of my lips, I dozed into a thought I’ve never had before - for the first time I felt like I do want to grow old. Back in high school, and even during college, I talked about how I only want to live while I’m young and then end it all before I start getting old. I was looking at the three rows of passengers in front of me on the airplane - happy old people, preserved, delighted that they are where they are, some coming back from visiting their grandchildren, others setting off to do just that - and I thought to myself, it would be so great to grow old gracefully. So I decided - if I do get old, I’d dye my hair blond, and I’ll take good care of myself. I want to be one of those delightful and charming old ladies with lively blond curls, healthy tanned skin and victorious attitude - an old lady that makes you wanna grow old.

Three days into coming back and going to &^*&^w@)(#*$o@#(*$&#*(r(#*&$k#(@*&$ I’m Same Old Me only a little tanned. One of these days I’ll go into detail about why exactly I hate it and what it does to me because some people don’t understand. I’ll list every little detail. For now - I dread it. What stops me from quitting is that most of the people there are nice, and even though they think I’m an idiot, I do realize there are way too many work places out there where people suck. A bird in a hand is worth two in a bush. Am I really being sensible, or am I just a wuss to quit?