Wednesday Afternoon, 5 PM

I will give you $20 if you can tell me what my title references. Family members and boyfriends not allowed to participate in the $20 sweepstakes.

In addition to being a reference to something, the title marks the day and hour that I’ll feel relatively relaxed and free for the rest of the week. I have been going nonstop for two weeks, and it will all culminate on Wednesday afternoon. I am mega-busy at work, I’ll tell you what, but it’ll relax a bit once Wednesday evening is here. I am tired, though. I sit in bed, already ready for bed, typing this out. I plan on turning off the light soon, even though the fading light will illuminate my apartment for a while.

In addition to Wednesday being the harbinger of the Memorial Day weekend (three days off–woohoo!!!!!!), Thursday heralds the arrival of my 28th year on this island Earth. Some cards have already started coming in, and I accidentally ran into IP laughing at a card at Giant the other day. I pressed on with my cart full of next-to-nothing, telling him that I knew there was nothing to see there, not wanting to ruin the card. I had already picked one out for my dear mom (birthday’s a week after mine), and I was in that aisle looking for a magnetic notepad, nothing else. I’m not sure what people are planning to get me (parents say that the gift is on the way; IP says that a few parts of his multi-pronged approach are done), but just as long as it doesn’t involve my commital to an insane asylum, I’ll be happy.

Contributing to my sense of weariness, though, was an intense week last week which involved about 160 people across multiple paths of my day-to-day. My attention, it is in demand, and I can’t always be there for everyone; I’m only one woman! One amazing woman, true, but it’s not always possible for me to help everyone–and can you believe I end up feeling guilty about it? Anyway, last week was fast-paced, and I welcomed the weekend. I did not get home on Friday until 9:30 PM (though, to be fair, 5pm to 8:30 PM was spent in a bar), and I promptly collapsed into bed after I had let IP know I was safe and sound. After receiving a call from my mother at 1:11 AM (she was safe and sound in California, at my second cousin’s baptism), I fell into a heavy sleep and did not emerge until 7 AM. Unfortunately, I didn’t sleep any more, but I did loll around in bed for a good hour. After getting ready for the day, I took my dry cleaning to, uh, dry clean, then headed towards the mall. I need short sleeve sweaters, damnit, I thought. And after this week, I’ve earned them! So I hopped the Metro Wheaton-bound. While on the train, I considered listening to my iPod, but though, nah, what for? Man, I wish I had given this encounter:

Guy walks onto the train at Forest Glen–I immediately sense that he’s not all there, and I’m horrified to see that he’s headed right towards me. Sure, there are people sitting in the same car, but they have their backs to me. I try not to make eye contact, but he ambles over anyway.

Weird Guy on Metro: Hello.

WordNerd: Erm, hello.

WGoM: What’s your name?

WordNerd: Uh . . . I’d rather not tell you that.

WGoM: Oh, you’re going to be like that? What, are you married?

WordNerd (seizing onto the idea): Yes, I am.

WGoM: Where’s your ring?

WordNerd: I’m having it cleaned. (Thanks to a co-worker for providing the idea–she mentioned briefly that her husband had wanted to have her ring cleaned, but she refused to take it off until the weekend rolled around.)

WGoM: Oh, that makes sense. (He sits down in the seats across from me and stares. I stare straight ahead. Why the hell is the distance between Forest Glen and Wheaton so fucking long!?)

WGoM: Can I ask you a question?

WordNerd: Um, sure.

WGoM: How old are you?

WordNerd: 28.

WGoM: Oh. You’re too old for me. I’m only 22. How long have you been married?

WordNerd: Three years.

WGoM: How old were you when you met your husband?

WordNerd: Um, we dated for three years before getting married . . . 22, I guess, like you.

WGoM: Oh. I’m looking for the love of my life. I thought it was you when I first saw you.

WordNerd: Nope, sorry. I have the love of my life.

WGoM: I hope I get mine.

WordNerd: Don’t look too hard. She’ll pop up one day.

WGoM: I hope so. Your husband’s a lucky man.

WordNerd: He sure is. (The conductor announces Wheaton. I shoot out of my seat, hoping WGoM doesn’t follow–he doesn’t.) Bye.

I then charged the hell up the Wheaton escalators which is no small feat. Bounding, nearly running, I make my way over to the mall, all the while surreptitiously looking over my shoulder. I have my phone at the ready, prepared to call IP in a heartbeat to come and pick me up at the mall if need be. If WGoM has followed me, I’m heading towards a security guard and waiting in the security offices until IP arrives. Fortunately, WGoM has given up on this married woman. I shop in relative peace, getting a couple of those short sleeve sweaters and a pair of pants. When I debark from the Metro, I walk to my apartment, and realize my legs are sort of shaking. It’s either from the Wheaton escalators (up and down at a fast pace) or I’m still a bit unsettled by my encounter. I’ve never been bothered on the Metro, and have only had one conversation with a stranger (a very nice gentleman who gave me a discount card for IP and me to his B&B in Baltimore). Never did I feel I was in huge danger (there were some people around, and Metro employees don’t seem to hesitate when enforcing the Will of the Metro), but it was nerve-wracking altogether. It took away some of the rest I’d had the night before, definitely.

Today, though, I’m really feeling the toll of the past two weeks and the weekend’s incident. When walking home today from work, I could barely make one foot move in front of the other. Departure is a simple act, I told myself, you put the left foot down, and then the right. However, it wasn’t easy. By the time I got to my apartment, my shoulders sagged, my bag fell to the ground, and I made dinner half-asleep.

Now, it’s time for sleep since the morning, it is just a few hours away. Does that help with the title clue? No? Eh, you suck for not liking the best duo ever.