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The other day, my rotator cuff was giving me grief again so I reached into my medicine cabinet, grabbed for the bottle of Tylenol and popped a couple of caps in my mouth. A friend and I were supposed to hang out that evening, but when he made a quick ride-by to say hello that late afternoon, I could barely stand on my feet. He rode away and a few minutes later my legs felt like jell-o and my eyelids felt like bricks. Confused and heavy-sleepy, I felt useless, so I texted and cancelled on the friend.
The next thing I know I’m waking up… still in my clothes and on top of the comforter and blanket. My watch says 5AM.
I had no idea what happened until later that day when I looked in my medicine cabinet and saw two almost identical bottles next to each other. One was labeled Tylenol, the other Tylenol PM.
Two lessons learned:
1) Labels are important.
2) Read them.
On another notion:
Who would have thought that sewing notions and office supplies would have so much to do with relationship matters? As I’ve said once before, safety pins, buttons, hooks, Velcro, zippers… they provide closure, which everybody needs in order to move forward.
I’ve had my share of fastenating experiences. Some were neatly packaged and bow-tied with a perfect little ribbon and neatly stashed under the bed or in a closet shelf. Some were crumpled up, duct taped into a ball, Glad-wrapped, green-binned, and watched and observed every minute until picked up by the garbage collector. Case closed. Good-bye forever.
And then there are labels. If you were to dig into my file box five years ago, you’ll find three labeled file folders;
Work Stuff- had everything that had to do with work, duh.
Medical Stuff- had one thin subfolder, my medical record pre age-18.
Personal Stuff- Mostly empty… Because…
What else I had was the Other Stuff— though unlabeled, are the several multi-colored file folders; Some would have random receipts, probably for when I thought I would claim things for tax season. Others— maybe old photographs, love letters, article clippings, bills, seashells, basketball trading cards, recipes, menus, doodles, book-pressed flowers, menus, etc. etc…. I loved going through each folder and tripping out in pleasant surprise and down memory lane. Except for when I find a surprise unpaid bill. Doh!
I’ve gotten a little better with labeling these days, but not the same goes in my relationships. There are times when labels make me cringe and itch but there are also times when I feel a bit lost in translation and need less gray and more definition. But, knowing myself, the obscurity keeps me on my toes and adds a certain element of excitement from just-not-knowing. One moment, being a “friend” makes me feel like I’ve unknowingly taken a couple or more of Tylenol PM caps— confused, beaten, and too tired to make sense of it all, which often makes me want to flee. Other times, it makes me feel like an unaffected firefly— free and unworried that any moment now, some stupid kid is going to catch me in a jar and watch me flicker to oblivion. With that last notion, I leave you with a haiku.
A Fire Fly’s Life
On a blade of grass,
She flicks her butt on and off—
Bow chica bow wow.
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