Author: Nikki Nelson-Hicks

It’s Saturday so that means a Day of Adulting. All the things I have to put off (or simply couldn’t conjure up the energy to deal with) I do on the weekend. Groceries, laundry, housework. All the boring stuff that sucked all the coolness from your parents, turning them into the Weather Channel groupies they became.

I have a roomba. It was the one thing I demanded on getting when we moved into the new house. I figured with a house full of cats, I deserved a roomba.

Yeah.

Little did I know that roombas are like having a blind butler that wants to help but, frankly, I’d get more done with a freaking broom.

Still, I have one so I use it. I glued big googly eyes on it to give it personality.

So, today I turned it on and let it waddle around the living room and kitchen, bouncing off legs of chairs and corners. Bless it.

I plugged in the Big Vacuum Cleaner, Ol’ Blue, the terror of all the four leggeds in the house, and got down to work. I had nearly finished the rug when Ol’ Blue suddenly stopped working. I stepped on the power button but nothing happened.

I heard the roomba.

I looked over at the plug.

The roomba was running back and forth over the cord, unplugging Ol’ Blue from the wall.

Rivalry is real, y’all.

I was on the elevator and a woman was complaining about how cold she is in her office.

“We’re all bundled up in our blankets, just typing away,” she said with a nervous giggle to the men sharing the ride with us.

“Did you contact your comfort coordinator?”

The men laughed.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“That’s the person assigned to each floor that is your liaison to the building maintenance. I’m the one on my floor. Have them call it in. Get your temp raised.”

“Oh, no no no….the guys are all right. They are all walking around in short sleeves shirts. It’s okay. It’s just us girls who are cold.”

“Screw the guys,” I said.

A nervous titter from the woman and a look from the men.

“Life is full of suffering,” I continued as the door opened to my floor and I stepped off.  “It’s stupid to add to it. Call maintenance. Get yourself some damn heat.”

I’ve often complained about how cold it is in my office. And, yeah. Sometimes it is a completely moot point to call in a complaint since the call center is in Chicago and odds are it’s all just a Sisyphean task in the end. BUT, goddammit, it’s the mindset that, “OH…it’s okay that I’m suffering. The guys are all okay.”

Fuck. That. In. The. Ass.

You know that office building’s temperature settings are set for the comfort levels of 40 year old men, right? Yeah. It’s been that way for generations.

Time to chuck that generational mind fuck and GET SOME DAMN HEAT, WOMEN!

Life is all about suffering. And if you can do just one teeny tiny thing to alleviate just a microcosm of that pain, for God’s sake, DO IT.

For the record, I’m warm. I’m doing okay. And, yes. I called in a work order the minute I walked into my office today.

It’s Sunday afternoon. I have a little over 14 hours before my Monday begins.

I try not to think about that too much.

A run down of my weekend:

Friday: Met up with Nina, and we went to the First Baptist Church of Westmoreland to pay our respects to our friend, Richard. I felt like crap (my stomach was churning acid and my ass was shooting out sewage) but I went because, hey, you only get one chance to say goodbye.

It took us 30 minutes to drive out from Gallatin to Westmoreland, TN, a rural bump in the road. Nina drove even longer since she had to get to my house from Whites Creek. We spent 10 minutes standing awkwardly in a church, surrounded by strangers. I watched the digital presentation of Richard’s life flash across the screens up on the stage. It was weird to see Richard as a child, then a teenager, a young man, and then, OH YES! there’s the Richard I knew.

One cool thing: Instead of a guest book, they asked people to write their names on rocks. There wasn’t a body so, I am assuming they are cremating him. Maybe they are going to make a rock garden out of our names?

Saturday: The Girl and I went out to look at cats. She thinks a cat will somehow heal the hole she has since Tom died. I tell her to use the cats we already have but, hey, whatever.  Strangely, there were NO KITTENS at the shelter. Not a one. There were 5 adult cats. Only 5. The Girl fell in love with a cat with Feline HIV. Because of course. Luckily, they refused her adoption request because we have 4 cats already. Thank God.

Sunday: I spent today researching colleges and submitting some transcripts. Oh, yeah. I’ve decided to get my Bachelor’s. I need to do something to go forward. I can’t stay where I am. SO, I’m looking. What I want is this: A self designed BA/BS degree in Liberal Studies with a focus on the publishing industry. At least, I have a target of sorts to shoot for. Now I just have to see how I can make this happen.

And that’s pretty much my mantra right now: Let’s Make This Happen.