Crabby no more!

I started my day all crabby. The Alaskan King Crab kind of crabby. But, thankfully, this experience was surprisingly short-lived. And, now, to all Alaskan King Crabs I say ‘Let them eat crab cakes!’

AA Hubby tried to sell me to this fish market in DC.

I stayed home from work yesterday because I hurt my back on Friday lifting a box at the office with 150 two-ounce pieces of mail in it. I knew darn well I shouldn’t have gone near it. And, please don’t call me a wimp. I know that box doesn’t sound excessively heavy (okay, it doesn’t sound heavy at all), but I’ve got a trick back that can go out on me in the blink of an eye.

And I intentionally blanked about the blink. Miss Conscientious – moi – had to get the mailing out the door before the holiday and cart it to the post office across the street. Most everyone else – at least the hearty males who would have answered my helpless female plea – had cut out early to get a jump on travel, last minute shopping, or Christmas festivities.

So, this is why I was still unable to stand up straight on Monday, an office holiday, and the next day. On Tuesday, I cashed in the one sick day I’ve earned since starting my new job and spent it popping Advil like they were Tic Tacs and lying on the heating pad. And I had a Crank Fest. I got cranky about my back. I got cranky about work. I got cranky about the exhaustion that goes hand in hand with the holidays. I got cranky about 2011. And I got cranky about 2012. While things appear to be on an upswing, if all goes well with the new jobs, it still won’t be until June that I can breathe a sigh of relief about the finances. Crank up the crank!

I'm sorry about the bad word. Sometimes you just have to let one out.

So, this morning, I trudged onward and upward back to work. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin and the heating pad cranked up to High, just because it was warm and cozy. None-the-less, I scuttle-shuffled out the door to catch the apartment shuttle to the Metro. And because, as a blogger, I can’t think outside of the blog, I started formulating a post in my head. But not this post. It was a post going in this direction:

When I feel like a crab, I allow myself to be that crab for one full day. (AA Hubby, if you value your life, you will refrain from commenting.) Then, the Cry Baby Crab Party is OVER. It isn’t easy, but I work at it. This morning, it was a struggle. I tried wrangling myself from the crabby muck on the sea floor with a reminder about the time someone asked me ‘What brings you joy?’ It hurt my head to answer that question today. Had the person been seated next to me, I could have taken a swing at them. Or pinched them really, really hard – because that’s what crabs do.

I asked myself, ‘If I take the wife and mother and blogger parts of me out of the equation, what on earth brings me JOY? What? What? What? Really? JOY?’ Obvious answer: SEA TURTLES! Realistic answer: NOT SEA TURTLES! Can I swim with them in DC? No. The only other answer I could think of, because I was being a crab: NOTHING! Absolutely NOTHING! Hrrmph!’

Do you like where that post is going? No. Neither do I. Fortunately, I got dropped off at the Metro right at the ‘Hrrumph!’ part. I scuttle-shuffled off of the shuttle and looked up to see Saleem. Immediately, my day turned around. In fact, as far as I know, Big Crabby Nothing scuttled into the depths of the Potomac, and is still making its way to some crab shack in Maryland.

Every morning, at Metro stations throughout the DC area, a free, daily, tabloid-format newspaper, the Express, is handed out at the entrances by distributors in yellow vests. About three weeks ago, I decided to take the time to greet and thank the distributor at my station as he handed me my paper. He didn’t look very approachable, or he was skeptical about my friendly demeanor. (I may be living further south now, but people aren’t that much warmer than New Englanders.) He remained rather serious, and avoided eye contact. I didn’t relent. I continued to greet him with a cheerful ‘Hello!’ each day.

Into the second week, I stopped one morning and asked him his name, and told him mine (let’s pretend I told him my name is AA). With a slight smile and a quick glance, he told me his name. Saleem. The next day, when I approached him from the shuttle, he said loudly with a big smile, “Good morning, AA!” I almost cried.

Last Friday, pre-back mishap, I surprised him by trading an envelope for a paper. In the envelope, I’d tucked a holiday card and a McDonald’s gift card with a $15 value. Just a small token of appreciation, enough for him to maybe grab a coffee before or after a shift for a couple of days. We wished each other the best for the holiday weekend.

This morning, Big Crabby Nothing that I was, when I looked up to greet Saleem, he put his papers down and welcomed me back with his arms out wide, and gave me a giant hug as he beamed, “Good morning, AA! GOOD morning, AA!” I did cry as I continued to my train. Tears of joy.

Thank you, Saleem, for being you and unwittingly helping me get over myself. I’ve since learned that your name means ‘peaceful.’ How fitting.

I wish everyone a joyful and peaceful 2012!

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