Except, I may not be walking away from the shop. After all the ranting I was doing about not being able to work in a place that wasn’t my family’s anymore… I think I may have just changed my mind. My father told me the other day that the new owner really wants me. Because I know the customers and the system and the floor and the phones… He said he’d probably be able to pay me what I’m worth, too.

I’ve been thinking about it, and I may just be thinking it couldn’t hurt to try. Besides, I could always just tell the guy that I’ll work for him until he finds my replacement, right?

Speaking of not opening the store – I am so very happy, considering I can hardly move. I am so tired/breathless/achy/UGH. I just want to go back to bed. Hopefully my job there won’t take me too long and I’ll be able to come back home and nap.

I’ve been thinking lately of buying a new domain again. I miss the ability to have the freedom I want with designs and space. I kind of have a name in mind, although it’s definitely different than most names I’ve ever picked out for myself. Then again, I’ve been changing a lot, so that would make sense. I think it describes me very well, and I’m debating whether or not I want to spend the money. I’m thinking I need an outlet for my creativity and emotions again – and web designing seems to be one of the only ways I know how to do that.

So very, very annoying. I’ve been avoiding a doctor’s appointment, but I’m thinking that may be the only thing to do right now. My head is pounding and I just can’t move.

Oh, asthma. How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.

Which is why, in honor of the fact, I am wearing my t-shirt that claims: If life gives you lemons, squeeze them into people’s eyes. I saved it until the very end.

I think, when I get home, I’ll do a therapeutic list of all the things I won’t miss about that place.

Wish me luck today.

(P.S. I’ve become addicted to Twitter. Someone help me.)

I nodded and gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” I apologized, “but we don’t have any plants left. Maybe a few on the back table, but nothing much.” I waved my hand in the direction of the back room. “Everything is 70 percent off, though,” I added. I felt sorry for the old lady. She obviously was on a mission, and wouldn’t resolve anything here.

She nodded and thought out loud that maybe she’d just look around. I watched carefully as she grabbed the railing to the few stairs into the back room. I half expected her to collapse halfway through.

After a few customers had come and gone, I noticed she returned to the front counter with a small pile of greeting cards. “No plants,” she commented, “but I’ll get these anyway. I’m going to miss you all. Where am I going to get my plants?”

I smiled at her again and rang her out, bagging her cards. She parted with some good wishes and wobbled out the front door. I noticed after she had left that her yard stick was still on the counter. At that point, I couldn’t recall if it belonged to her, or if it was ours – so I hung it up in our stairwell.

A moment later, she returned looking slightly confused. I reached behind the wall and pulled the yard stick back out for her, assuming she had come back to retrieve it. “Did you forget this?” I asked her with a grin. She blinked at me for a moment, and then reached out for it.

“Oh!” She looked completely lost. “I did, but that’s not why I came in. See, I had driven here with a coat on, but when I got out in the parking lot I thought ‘it’s too warm for a coat’ and I put it back in the car and shut the door. But I forgot my keys were in the pocket. I locked myself out of my car! I don’t know what to do.”

I reached for my bag under the counter. “Hold on just one second. Let me see…” I grabbed my wallet and pulled out my AAA membership card. After finding the 800 number on the back, I was on the phone waiting for them to come help. The old woman stood there in awe, thanking me over and over as I told her that they would be coming soon enough to unlock her car for her.

After sitting for a few minutes, she decided she needed to run next door to the liquor store before they came for her car. I offered to hold her items until she came back. A moment later, the AAA truck was pulling into the parking lot and the elderly lady was hobbling back towards the door hugging a brown paper bag. I ran outside to greet the AAA man and make sure he didn’t give her any trouble.

While he went for his tools, the woman turned to me. “I want you to take a bottle of wine for being so sweet,” she said.

I graciously declined. “I couldn’t possibly! Really, it was no big deal. It was my pleasure!” I explained.

She smiled, still hugging the bag like a baby. “You don’t understand. I could have been stuck in some shopping center parking lot, and they would have closed their doors and shrugged saying ‘too bad, it’s not our problem.’ It was so nice of you to do this for me. Just take a bottle of wine, please?” She leaned in so I could look in the bag to pick. “Don’t you drink wine?”

I held back a grimace. I couldn’t tell her the truth. What was I to say? I’m sorry, I’m a child of alcoholic parents and I don’t touch alcohol for fear that I’ll become just as addicted as they are. “Occasionally,” I lied.

She held the back out further in my direction. “Then please, pick one. I don’t even know what they are.” I peered into the bag and decided I would just pick the prettiest bottle. I couldn’t resist; she had melted my heart with her sweetness.

I touched her elbow gently and thanked her. “What is your name?” I asked before turning back to the store.

“Marjorie,” she replied. “Marjorie Hemingway.”

- ~ -

I just wanted to say, thank you Marjorie. Thank you for restoring my faith in people. It is so few that make me feel the way you did that day. It’s nice to know that there are still people in the world who don’t just think of themselves. It’s nice to know that there are still people who want to help, and who appreciate those who go out of their way for them. Your bottle of wine will sit in view always, as a reminder of the kindness you showed.

Thank you for reminding me that nice does matter.

I give him credit for at least trying to look like he cared. Sort of. Oh this so totally made my day. I shall begin the countdown to December… now.

On the other hand, it was offered that we could have our jobs under the new owner. You’d think after all of my crying and heartache over the close of the shop would make me jump at the offer, right? Wrong. I turned it down. As I explained to my father – When I started working at the store, it was not because I wanted to work in a flower shop, it was because it was my family who owned and ran it. It was convenient at the time. Yes, I grew to love the store, the job and the people in it… but it wasn’t really my niche in life. Unlike D and K who have been there for 16+ years, their talent is for designing. If they were to go for another job, they’d go for another flower shop. Me? I’d probably go to an office somewhere. Some place where I’d type and answer phones. That’s my strong suit.

With that being said, if the family isn’t going to be a part of the business anymore, it doesn’t really have any meaning to me. I don’t think I’d be comfortable working in that building, with the same name, only with different people and a different owner. It just… wouldn’t feel right to me. I hope D and K decide what’s best for them, and that they are happy in whatever they do. I told them, at least I know where I’ll be able to go and get my flowers now. Like hell if I was going to get them from Stop & Shop.

So. It looks as though our last day will be Wednesday, if not before. I still have some work that I need to do for Jay and dad after the store has been turned over, which I’ll be able to do from home. So it looks like I’ll be employed for a bit longer, which is nice. Longer time for unemployment = longer time for me to figure out what the hell I’m going to do. I still joke with D and K at work saying that I’m just secretly hoping that Simon will get a good enough job before my unemployment runs out so he can work and I can play housewife for a change.

A girl can dream, right?

Also, I just wanted to say… that although I may not be the best friend in the world (probably the farthest from, actually) I still have people who do such nice things for me that it brings me to tears. Yesterday morning I awoke to find an Amazon gift card in my inbox from Leelah, with a message that read to go ahead and buy a book so I can catch some rays and read after the store closes. And I’d also like to mention my sweet Mel, who is constantly sending me happy mail packages with goodies galore. I am still getting compliments on the necklace and headband she sent me last time. Thank you, guys. For really and truly caring. I do admit that I can kind of suck in the friend department, but you guys make me feel so good inside.

And now, off to put some clothes on.

I would like to blame it on work, because it’s been consuming my whole being. Every moment I seem to be thinking about it, worrying about it, wondering how it’s going to turn out. We’ll be closed by the end of this month. But, Jamie has said that there is still some bookkeeping that needs to be done, so I would be able to work from home after the store has closed to finish it. So it’s hard to believe that it’s actually close to being over, when every morning I groan and roll out of bed, get dressed, and drive to work. I’m thankful we’re only open until three o’clock, because I don’t think I could possibly make it any longer. I have never worked so hard at that place in my five years of being employed there. The people are shameless and obnoxious. You see this poor girl, purple bags under her eyes and looking like she’s ready to fall over on her feet behind the counter, and you know that she’s out of job, and yet – you try to get the lowest price anyway. Why not, right? They’re going out of business, so they should sell it to me for whatever I want just so they can get the money. They’re desperate, aren’t they? I’m so sick of the heartlessness and the complete rudeness of these people. It’s hard to comprehend how they go to sleep at night not ridden with guilt.

In better news, I am almost finished with “New Moon” by Stephenie Meyer. I’m excited, because it’s just so damn good, but I’m also quite saddened by the fact that it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to afford the next book just yet. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to devour hundreds of pages in days like it was my life source. It makes me want to read Hamilton’s new book more than ever now. I’m debating re-reading the Anita Blake series over again just to pass some time. We’ll see.

Last night I attempted something I have never tried before but always wanted to. Simon assured me that it was foolproof and that I should check it out, because it’s not very hard. Last night, I stripped down to my skivvies and Simon sprayed airbrush tan on my legs. I was desperate for anything to make my legs look something other than a dead fish belly. It said it would take a few hours to show up, but I was sleepy and ended up passing out before we could really see the results. I was amazed at how soft it made my legs at least. I woke up this morning, rolled out of bed to grab my bathrobe and the can of tanner, and drudged up the stairs to the shower. I figured I would do it one more time after I got out of the shower to make them a bit darker. When I turned on the light in the bathroom, however, I scowled at my legs. Stripes! I look like a fucking zebra. I showered, scrubbing at my skin – hoping to get some of the orange stuff off me, but no luck. I decided I would try to spray the lighter spots to maybe make the darker ones look a little less drastic. I went out into the kitchen where my mother was making coffee. “LOOK AT MY LEGS,” I told her. She looked, and shrugged. She said you couldn’t see anything. “Well, there’s this…” She poked at a spot on my calf. I hopped away. “Don’t touch it! It’s still wet. And that’s a bruise.”

After a few minutes of arguing with her that my legs were a stripy mess, I dragged her into the bathroom light to look. I was convinced she’d be able to see what I was talking about. But, as soon as she scrutinized my skin again, she shrugged. She told me that I was just being paranoid because it was my skin. But she just thinks they look like shadows. Shadows! Ha!

I’ll have to see if the emergency spray I did this morning fixed it at least a little bit. But, to be on the safe side… I’m wearing pants.