Orange Fever
(Day Fifty-Nine)
When we were in middle school, my best friend used to get what she called "orange fever." It seemed to be brought on by cheez-its, cheese puffs, and carrots. Orange foods. She'd go into some kind of hyper, drunken state where everything was funny and everything was the most exciting thing that could possibly happen.
I have a picture of her in my mind: framed by the refrigerator door, a bag of baby carrots in her hand and a gleeful grin on her face, she's frozen as her 11-year old self, bobbed hair, oversized features and all. I remember laughing hysterically at whatever she was saying. Life was hilarious. We probably went outside after and ate cookie dough while jumping on the trampoline, because that's how we spent our time. My best friends have always loved food like I do.
Do you remember that hyper feeling that was only possible as a child? It must have been some mix of sugar and hormones and your brain being unable to contain your emotions within your measly little body. I'm pretty sure the reason people drink and do drugs as adults is to get back to that psychotic, bouncing-off-the-walls feeling. Everything was grand. Ebullient, even.
I felt a little bit like that this afternoon, but it was the adult version. It was because it was sunny outside and I was stuck inside, and I wanted to be running around a playground and swinging on a swing, not doing adult things like discussing projects and setting deadlines. I was sitting there in a meeting around 2:30, resisting the urge to spin in my chair and to throw the conference room phone at the projector screen, pretending to act like the boss. Who cares?
Here's a question: Do we have to be grownups?
I wonder if my best friend, now married and a mom to two girls, ever eyes those cheez-its, cheese puffs, and carrots and wants to say "eff it." Of course she does.
Meanwhile, it's now 10pm and Clyde seems to have rolled in something disgusting. He smells like dead elephant.
When we were in middle school, my best friend used to get what she called "orange fever." It seemed to be brought on by cheez-its, cheese puffs, and carrots. Orange foods. She'd go into some kind of hyper, drunken state where everything was funny and everything was the most exciting thing that could possibly happen.
I have a picture of her in my mind: framed by the refrigerator door, a bag of baby carrots in her hand and a gleeful grin on her face, she's frozen as her 11-year old self, bobbed hair, oversized features and all. I remember laughing hysterically at whatever she was saying. Life was hilarious. We probably went outside after and ate cookie dough while jumping on the trampoline, because that's how we spent our time. My best friends have always loved food like I do.
Do you remember that hyper feeling that was only possible as a child? It must have been some mix of sugar and hormones and your brain being unable to contain your emotions within your measly little body. I'm pretty sure the reason people drink and do drugs as adults is to get back to that psychotic, bouncing-off-the-walls feeling. Everything was grand. Ebullient, even.
I felt a little bit like that this afternoon, but it was the adult version. It was because it was sunny outside and I was stuck inside, and I wanted to be running around a playground and swinging on a swing, not doing adult things like discussing projects and setting deadlines. I was sitting there in a meeting around 2:30, resisting the urge to spin in my chair and to throw the conference room phone at the projector screen, pretending to act like the boss. Who cares?
Here's a question: Do we have to be grownups?
I wonder if my best friend, now married and a mom to two girls, ever eyes those cheez-its, cheese puffs, and carrots and wants to say "eff it." Of course she does.
Meanwhile, it's now 10pm and Clyde seems to have rolled in something disgusting. He smells like dead elephant.