Good morning one and all. Tuesday has dawned cold and clear and it looks like my nose has decided to stop running and my eyes to stop watering. Let joy go out throughout the land! These abrupt weather changes have taken atoll on my sinuses. But as long as we don’t have an more 70 degree temps in the next week or so I should be fine again. Which is nice. I think even my writing sound stuffed up when I have a cold. And speaking of writing, lets get into it shall we? Get those timers set, because it is time for the morning prompt. So let’s begin.
Hmm, I fumbled about a bit in the beginning but I rather like the direction it was heading when I meandered towards the end. It would require a great deal of clean up, but I think there would be a fun story in there.
Tuesday, January 11th: They were all assembled.
They were all assembled. It took me thirty two hours and forty six minutes to put all of the gift bags together. Now it was finally done. All of the gift bags were assembled. Each one had their own specific label and the appropriate items inside. In the bags belonging to those who were allergic to peanuts, no items containing any nut based product or item produced in a facility associated with nuts was inside. Instead replacement items were found and the substitutions made. In the baskets of those who were vegan, no form of animal product including honey was represented.
The list had been painstaking and at first daunting. Each person had their own separate list of dos and don’ts . On top of allergies, food sensitivities and dietary preferences, there were color charts, size charts and material allergies. There were items designed for those who preferred a gender neutral approach and those who wanted to celebrate their gender identity, whatever that gender happened to be.
Each of the bags was a work of individual craftsmanship and at this point I felt as though I knew each of the invited guests personally. I sighed with relief, let my eyes scan the bags and took a moment to bask in the pride of a job finally completed. I turned out the lights and locked the doors as I left, making sure that everything remained secure.
The next morning did not start off well. Flower arrangements were missing. Food deliveries were delayed and torrential rains poured down turning the surrounding hillside into a muddy slide. No one was happy. Fights broke out over umbrella usage and the musical artist booked for the affair refused to play in the space provided as a rain alternative.
The only thing that went right were the gift bags. They alone survived. Those guests that did make it to the venue were presented with their hand crafted gift bags before they were turned away and sent back down the hill. The event was ruined. It was an utter catastrophe. Still I wasn’t in charge of the event. It was in fact requested that I have no input in the event. My opinions were not wanted or needed. I took the task of the gift bags on to stay out of the way and to make myself useful after my questions were construed as second guessing. There was a petty streak that woke up inside of me as I handed out those gift bags to mud spattered and bedraggled guests. I hadn’t realized I had that streak in me before. I liked to think of myself as a good person. Watching my step sisters’ collapse in tears over the ruined gala made me feel just a little bit happy inside. I couldn’t deny it.
I was certain that any form of smile would provoke an unmitigated backlash, so I concentrated on handing out the gift bags and providing what information I could, while the others held back and bemoaned the hand fate dealt with them. While I was certain that deep inside of me the petty streak remained, by the time the last of the guest left I was too tired to even think of indulging it. I had no smiles left, petty or otherwise. I closed and locked the doors, and made a pass through the first floor, turning out lights as I went. The house was quiet, the first floor abandoned as others fled to the sanctuary of their own rooms.
Ten til Midnight 