You know those cold wintery days where, after a very hot shower with the bathroom door closed, you just don’t want to walk out into the frigid temps of your bedroom? Yes, today was one of those days. It was only 30s outside but our bedroom is the coldest, most uninsulated room in the house. We had the heat set to 72, making it toasty in all other rooms but ours was still Ice Station Zebra.

So I layered today, to fight the wind that rips through Tallahassee’s hills like no one’s business, chilling you to the bone. Pulling on my jacket, I got out at my little local place to get my ham, egg, and cheese biscuit. There was a middle-aged black man on crutches standing near the door. He smiled and went back to looking at the road, as if he were waiting for a ride.  I got my food then walked back towards my car and the man – who I noticed was wearing dress pants and a nice sweater with an overcoat – asked if I could help him get something to eat. I was a bit shocked because, I admit, I didn’t assume he was homeless. Maybe just down on his luck? Of course, I don’t carry any cash on me and I was running late for work. I politely told him I couldn’t help and walked on. He wasn’t creepy or pushy like a lot of this town’s homeless but I really felt bad for the guy. What if he got hurt on the job and couldn’t collect disability? Or his hospital bills mounted up and he lost his home or family? It just reminded me that whining about the cold in my room is so petty compared to what this man must endure.

:::

I noticed last night that I have been grinding my teeth lately. Admittedly, going back to work has been a major source of stress and anxiety for me these past two weeks. I’ve not been as motivated to clean or cook once I get home. I’m still worried I’m going to forget to do something at work because I was gone for so long.  My father has always ground his teeth. He did it while he watched TV and I remember as a kid watching his temples pulsate as he ground away the enamel on his back teeth, knowing the dentist told him he had to stop. But there was no telling my dad to relax and stop that habit. I’m really trying to fight it and catch myself. Because it’s starting to give my gums a dull ache.

:::

After careful evaluation of my emotional state last night, I think it’s definitely time for a pedicure and a relaxing day. On Friday night, I am going to a bachelorette party where I will probably have a couple drinks but my idea of a de-stressor is really just some time to read a magazine and get a foot massage. Now, if I could only get rid of the guilt of forsaking all other duties for just an hour, I could actually enjoy such a treat.