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  • Writer's picturemaggiehsmith07

Let's Pretend this Isn't Happening


In what feels like only yesterday, my work colleague for the better part of 11 years told me he had accepted a fancy pants job and was moving to Atlanta to be with his wife full-time. His wife had been commuting to Atlanta for years and he was going to join her. I was happy and I was not happy because, I’m selfish like that. We had just gotten the band back together what with my return in January of this year. I decided to go about my business, pretending as if this weren’t happening. And so today was him last day which meant I could no longer pretend this wasn’t happening. My pastel cloud of denial was burst like a water balloon which meant I cried about this AT WORK which makes me want to go into witness protection but that seems like a lot of trouble. And would I be able to take my cat with her balding ear into witness protection? Probably not – that expanding bald spot would blow both our covers. Maybe work can just pretend that didn't happen? Personally, I need a better coping strategy than denial. I realize I’m in denial about a lot of things – like who the President of the United States is and how many calories are in a pint of ice cream, to name a few.

Tonight I had ice cream for dinner because I’m nailing that reality thing. I am hoping I burned calories getting into the house. The contractor, Fred, gave me a call this morning to tell me that his crew would be pouring concrete for our walkways today.

“So you’ll have to go in through the back.” Fred says.

“No problem!” I say, thinking that it’s actually a small problem because the back, sliding glass door and the bulkhead are both secure. But at the time, I have bigger things to worry about – like how my co-worker is really leaving. I put the concrete out of my mind. Until I pulled into my driveway that is. I’d imagined hopping over the path and onto the bottom step of the entrance to our side door. In my mind, the path was much more narrow than reality and, as such, able to be scaled with a jump. I dragged a chair to the front, behind the small stair landing and climbed atop it, thinking I could climb over the railing. A chair leg swiftly sank into the soft soil, pitching me to the side and I let out a small shriek. Georgie, whom I’d driven home from dog daycare with Wrigley, watched me with skepticism from the driver’s side of my car, as if he may throw the car in reverse and drive him and Wrig’s off into the night.

I then crept along the path of plantings that’s alongside the steps and was able to access the stairs this way. Success! I even got the dogs into the house without one of them (Georgie) sinking their paw into the cement. On Saturday, we have a call with the dog trainer about Georgie. Last night, I obsessively read every testimonial on her website. She should be able to whip this little demon into shape if her reviews are to be believed.


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