From the Desk of Madame Zuchini

She Works Hard for the Waiting

Today is a waiting game. The more linear of you will take this to mean waiting for the weekend. You are the ones who banish Monday through Friday into oblivion, while only dreaming of the weekend; which is more often than not a grievous disappointment, which makes you very mad or depressed depending on your outlook of life. Or not.   But what is a week’s end? And what makes it start?  What makes us loathe the weekdays so much, and what really, truly are we waiting for? A load of bricks? Sometimes that’s what we are waiting for – that load of bricks, and we spend so much time waiting for it to fall on us, that we don’t notice that it is already Wednesday and the bricks have not fallen. Something has held them off. Could it be that good karma you’ve saved up, or perhaps the bricks are waiting for back up to really pelt you good. I don’t know, I’m a psychic not a bricklayer.  But for the less sycophantic of you, you will feel that life itself is a wating game, no matter what day of the week it is, and not a fun one.  I for one despise waiting.   Sitting in the large expanse of time not knowing when or even if something is going to happen or someone will come for you. Will someone live or die? Will the last piece of cake still be there when you want it? Ach, it’s all a waiting game. And for those of you with no taste for the unknowable, (thank God Madame knows all), waiting itself can be that load of bricks.

And there you have it, my friends. You see, you have consigned yourself to your own waiting hell. Whether it’s waiting in the doctor’s office, the grocery line or for that phone call that will probably never come, and if so, with more than likely bad news, or good news depending on what you wanted to  hear.

We spend five days or so, looking forward to two days or so, and miss the purple majesty of the days we live in. Each new day brings with it endless possibilities. Look forward to the small things, the cheese Danish you buy from the hair netted lady, your boss out sick for a week, (will his week end?), but instead you have created a  hell in the waiting of the bricks. Quit working for the weekend and work for the evening, or even lunch time. But often the weekend or the evening or Madame’s new Merlot is a shining star of  false hope.( For hope is the death of happiness. You would be well to have no expectations and therefore cannot be deflated with disappointment). Which is why when we look forward all day to coming home, it is often as unfulfilling as last Saturday’s date.  (this is why Madame drinks). There is no gaggle of dancing girls awaiting you, no roses from a creepy admirer, not even a cessation of the neighbor’s incessant arguing, or worse, making up. No your house is a bitter heap of dust bunnies and socks strewn about like cigarette butts on the beach.  But make it your own. Do not look forward to any particular event,  Move to the side just in case the bricks do come. And have a broom ready.

Now Madame isn’t stupid  – she knows all, I realize that most of you  have jobs that tax the definition of the term “I’d rather be dead”.Your jobs fairly ooze meaningless bean counting, to fill the pockets of the already rich and ridiculous pigs thaat profit off the sweat of your efforts, all the while paying you to barely subsist. These wasteful excuses of protons and electrons feel justified in bruising your intellect so  they can buy personally fitted spandex, and pay for ungodly expensive bat mitzvah’s for their spoiled little girls. And don’t forget the monthly eyebrow waxing to create the perfect arch.

But make room for the ridiculous, the humor in your bosses’ wig melting in the humidity, perhaps being coaxed to the side of his head making him look like a Picasso in his cubist days. You will find that not only will your wait for the beginning of the falling of the bricks be alleviated, but that you look forward less, and live in the present more, which is to say the past.  If what you wait for is the common cold of your life, than stop waiting. Stand up and say, “I quit this childish game”. Go on with your life and wait for smaller things that will most certainly come, like spilling coffee or tripping on a crack in the sidewalk. Or in Madame’s case, spilling Pop Tart crumbs all over herself.  Most of the time, dear ones, there is no load of bricks, there is  merely the agony of the mundane, the routine of life; the quiet and tedious collection of hours that drain you of your life’s blood. So karate chop the routine, spit out the quiet, make some noise, and make it proud.

Brushing your teeth, washing your hair, making sandwiches for your lunch, these are the “load of bricks” that weigh you down, in ways you haven’t even fathomed. So concentrate on the misery and mastery of your daily routine and how sick and tired you are of forgetting to buy a new tube of toothpaste – it takes two  hands to squeeze enough toothpaste out of the tube, but when you take one hand away to swipe the toothbrush under the paste, the paste subsides again and again…..Ah, the waiting, and there you have it.  But for those of you who prefer to be linear, just wait for the weekend, it will come, and it will fail to fulfill your expectations. But revel even in that. Don’t be cheap with your laughter and enjoyment of the small things. Hit that load of bricks first, create your own destiny. Speaking of not being cheap. Madame’s 1957 Merlot is calling my name, literally, I’ll have to see a doctor about that. Madame out.

Word of the Day – Sophistry. As in: Madame  practices a good deal of sophistry, but her readers are too….fond of Madame to realize. On second thought, don’t look it up.