Introverted

A random piece I thought I was going to continue for Nano... that didn't work out.

I don't really view pain as a bad thing. Annoying, sure. Pain is a necessary sensation that can be turned into a weapon.Due to every kids' training, I hesitate sometimes or remind myself that pain is not so bad when facing it. I welcome pain, but I am still terrified.

Because of this view, I sometimes wonder why I have such a hard time when my joints bug me. I just complain so much and use them as an excuse to get out of doing things. Pain is tolerable; I am just apparently lazy and like complaining. Pain is pretty much a touching sensation that's pushed harder or pinching as well. So weird.

When zoning out or doing mindless tasks, I think of some random stuff. For instance, the above. I'm currently unpacking boxes of items in the back of the grocery store I work at, called Greg's Grocer's. The job is literally just picking a box that has just come off the delivery truck, carrying it to the specified location, and then proceeding to place all of that box on the corresponding shelf. Pretty basic stuff.

Today I'm working in the back, but sometimes they have me shelving things in the display areas. One some such days, people like to ask me where things are, so Management requires that I know how the store is organized. Milk's in the outer back, eggs and dairy to one side and meats to the other. Bakery is next to the meat, with cheese, sushi, and the deli on the opposite side. Cans are in the middle, with other nonperishables("why are they called nonperishables? They can definitely expire." "I don't know, ma'am. Good question."). Soda candy, and alcohol (beer) ironically right next to the pharmacy and health area. Magazines, books, and movies are toward the front, next to the health area, with checkout stations separating them from the flowers. These are the rough areas, along with frozens between the nonperishables and the candy. Usually I can find things pretty quickly, due to me being a shopper there myself as well as the reluctance to interact with other people. This is why I chose working in the back.

It is kind of fun, however, to make up stories about people I see shopping while I'm stacking the displays. Sometimes I make up the dreams of a stranded stay at home parent who is clearly desperate for a break from the kids, jobs of people in suits, or just the general life story of total strangers. Kind of judge-y, I know, but it passes the time and is quite amusing. Occasionally these stories leak into my dreams, making for some interesting memories.

On a day where I was scheduled to resupply cans in the front of the store, doing the story game, I saw a very interesting woman. I had just finished coming up with the unfulfilled wishes of a mom with 4 clingy, annoying kids when she walked by.

She had long, dark blue hair. Stunning blue; it seemed to change color with the lighting. She had on sunglasses, shielding her eyes, presumably from the lights. She looked a little hung over. Wearing a hastily put together business casual outfit, she was hurrying to the side of the check out- to the ATM then to our popular coffee shop, Morning Stop. I had the fleeting feeling that I knew her, or had seen her before. Even in her disheveled state, she exuded confidence.

Then, it was time for my break so I didn't have time to make up stories for her. Later, when I tried to come up with a past for the woman, all I could think about was her gorgeous, flowing hair. I got so distracted, it took me two boxes to realize I had put things in the wrong place, which lead to some temporary confusion amongst customers. So I tried making up her future as I was kneeling on the ground restocking beans, but all I envisioned was a huge, blank wall.

"MC, I need you to cover Phil's front restocking shift tomorrow," I heard from above me as a pair of feet and legs in very clicky heels found their way into my sight. Before I could respond, she, Assistant Manager Lisa, click clacked off to annoy someone else. I sighed and closed my eyes for a few seconds, suddenly snapping them open and my head up to see the woman standing at the end of the isle with her coffee in hand.

"Managers, huh?" Her voice was smooth and low, with a slight scratchy after note that was pleasing to the ear. The interaction startled me, so I awkwardly just sat there, having made a very slight nod. She flashed me a quick grin, said 'have a nice day', and left. I turned back to face the cans and sat there for a minute; my head tilted to the side in confusion. Shaking out of it, I went back to shelving the canned beans, thinking about how they would come in handy if the zombie apocalypse ever happened.

The day ended without incident, and I returned home to my two grateful cats, fed them, and slipped into my warm, loving bed.

At 2:30 I wake up with a cat on my chest, kneading my throat. Cat claws hurt, especially at 2:30 in the morning. After shooing her away, I lay there, trying to remember the dream my cat so rudely interrupted. With no avail, I slowly drifted back into the sea of sleep.

I remember where I know the blue haired lady from. Back in middle and high school, there was this girl (no, not with blue hair, but brown. A mahogany-ish brown). She wasn't exactly popular, but she was friend acquaintances with everyone in her grade, most of the students in the grade above and below, and always seemed to have a hoard of people engulfing her. I used to watch as she walked by in the lunch room, admiring her confidence and tolerance for people. She was so busy with extra-curricular and curricular clubs, I was surprised she managed to ace all her advanced classes. One time, I went to the auditoria during 5^th period (when I was supposed to be in class but didn't want to be, because honestly, who cares about limits on a graph? Certainly not I... But possibly the girl) to see the mahogany haired girl sitting up in the costume loft above the tech booth. She was just chilling on the edge of the storage space, sitting with her arms crossed, supported by the safety rails and resting her head on them.

That was the only time I ever saw her alone. Too bad I don't remember this when I wake up.

EEEEEEEEEERRRRR, EEEEEEEEEERRRRR, EEEEEEEEEERRRRR, EEEEEEEEEERRRRR, my stupid alarm jolts me awake; I'm still not used to the overly obnoxious, very long beep. I quickly shut it off and manage to roll off the bed in the process, almost squishing Mae, my black kitten. I land on my back with one arm trapped and my head about an inch from the wall. Mae races, off, tail fluffed up 3 times it's normal size. Punkin-of course- lies, undisturbed, at the foot of the bed.

"Uuuuugggghhhhhhh," I sigh, covering my face with the arm I didn't land on. I don't want to get up. Believe it or not, I am not really a morning person. Or night person. Or person person. Good thing I set one of my alarms early so I can have another hour of sleep. I smile to myself as I try to venture back to sleep. Mae comes to snuggle and wedges herself between me and the bed. Apparently, Punkin joined the party and slept on my stomach, because when I woke up, I was definitely being held down by a fluffy orange mass.

Groaning and against Mae and Punkin's wishes, I sit up. The kittens meow in protest, Mae falling into the space where my back had been and Punkin sliding into my lap, looking at me very expectantly. I gently shove him off with my comforters. I stand, wobble over to the cats' food container, feed them and bump my toe into almost every piece of furniture possible.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck," I grumble,sucking in air through my teeth as a reaction to the pain.Shaking my foot, and therefore shaking off the pain, I walk over to the mirror next to my dresser. I make several faces expressing my dissatisfaction with my appearance.

"Purrrt!" Mae is rubbing against my leg, her whiskers tickling me. I bend down to stroke her, her fur shedding so much that by the time I've gotten through scratching her back, I have enough to make into another cat. Combined with Punkin's fur, I could cover my apartment with it. In fact, they already do. There's fur everywhere. Not a safe place in sight.

To be fair, my apartment is tiny. A small studio apartment located on the ground level, in a corner of the building. I requested a ground level so I could bring in my punching bag that I love so much. My cats get scared whenever I punch it because it moves around so much (also, i usually use it for when I'm angry)- hence why I'm on the first floor.

With my bed, dresser, and punching bag crowding the apartment, there's barely any room between my bed and my table. The table is really the only thing separating my 'living space' from the kitchen. The bathroom is just to the right of the kitchen, which is also cramped because of size. I conveniently hide my cat's litter box underneath a 'coffee table' which I use as a nightstand because my bed is so close to the ground; the bed frame broke when Punkin jumped off of it one time.

Looking back into the mirror, I take full account of how bad my bed head is; it's severe. I guess the kittens have been licking my hair while I've been asleep again. Most of the slightly-shorter-than-shoulder-length hair I have is sticking upwards or directly to the side; forming a sort of halo in the back. Pouty face.

I trudge off to the shower, trying to avoid stepping on Mae and Punkin as they run about, playing with each other and various catnip filled toys. Punkin slams against the door as I'm trying to close it, clearly too entrenched with the toys to notice spatial boundaries. I turn on the shower faucet and fan, & strip off my clothes before I step into the warmth after it has time to heat up.

The steam and hot water feel so incredibly good on my skin; my apartment tends to be freezing. I quickly fill up the small bathroom- it should really be a closet- with steam, so I open the door a crack to help the heat escape. After a few minutes, Punkin ventures in, like usual, and rubs against the door a bit; accidentally closing it. Once he realized he's trapped, he commences mewling.

"MAROOOWWWWW. MAAAAOOOOO. MERRRROOOOOWWWWWWWWWW," I hear his wailing and reach to open the door for him. He rushes out to Mae who was waiting patiently on the other side of the door.

Once I finish showering, I get dressed. Blue jeans, as per usual, and a black tee so I look somewhat professional. After all, Major A*s Lisa said I'll be in the front today, covering Phil's shift. I wonder why he can't come in? I absentmindedly prepare breakfast for myself while thinking. Maybe he got in a car crash and can't come into work today. Maybe he broke his arm. Maybe he has a horrible face dis-figuration that prevents him from working up front until it heals. Maybe it snowed on his house and the roof caved in, Maybe he's sick. Maybe Contagion started with his wife. Maybe his dog died and he needs time to grieve.

Well, my thoughts are kind of morbid. I finish zoning out and enjoy my weird breakfast of scrambled eggs, heated up leftover rice, and medium salsa. Yum. I know it's a strange combination, but it's actually pretty good. I glance at the clock- it's 8:23. Perfect. Enough time for me to rinse my dishes, grab my bag, and head out the door to catch the bus to work at 8:47. Right on schedule.

Once I actually get out the door, I breath in and out a huge sigh. Not a sigh of relief, because going to work means I have to interact with people, but kind of a sigh of disappointment. This is probably a sign I should switch jobs. But I'm super introverted, so trying to some up with a job that has minimal human contact that isn't in a cubicle is hard. But people and tight quarters bug me. Some people are okay, but most aren't.

I'm not saying I'm perfect, but so many people are egotistical hypocrites who push others out of the way because they're not looking where they're going.

I take my headphones out of my bag, plug them into my phone, and begin the 5 minute walk to the bus stop. I always leave a few minutes early so that I can have room for human contact errors or if the bus is early. I