Paperwork … always paperwork.
So even though it was a regularly scheduled physical — pending the results of the standard bloodwork one morning next week, I’m healthy, although because of a change in age guidelines my doctor recommended something that starts with “colon” and ends with “-oscopy” — I was filling out paperwork.
OK, it was a minor annoyance at worst, but as I was checking to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, I noticed on one of the forms I had written the right date … but the year as 2019.
I’m usually pretty good at the start of each January about updating the year whenever I fill out any documents, but this was the third week of July …
… in 2021.
I was reminded that seven years ago, Suzi and I had the distinct privilege of being in the drive-through line at McDonald’s when a guy cut in line to express displeasure with his order. (I shudder to think what he’s doing now if he gets less-than-perfect service.)
And then five years before that … now that was a doozy.
Our governor at the time (and his new puppy) came to a meeting in our office before an event with local business leaders at a nearby restaurant. The meeting where I worked was above my pay grade, but I did go to the event afterwards.
Once that was done, I spoke with the governor for a minute, doubled back to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything and … a local town official wanted to talk to me.
It was not to get a recommendation for something off the menu.
You see, back at my office, when he found out the governor was there, he marched down the hall with the intent of dropping in and saying hello. Because he previously had words with the folks at the front desk, I was dispatched to chase him down.
Grumbling and profanities followed, but … whatever.
At the restaurant, however, he decided he would make his displeasure known.
I tried to reason with him, but “reason” may as well have been just another four-letter word. The state legislator who had set up the whole event was sitting about 20 feet away with his family, and he had to break up the argument.
Dude never realized that he was better off with me stopping him, because if I hadn’t and he had rounded the corner, the large men with suits and guns would have.
I wrote a note on Facebook about it, leading to an email exchange with my mother in which I told her the story, and that yes, there were witnesses, and no, I wasn’t going to get in trouble for it.
So yeah, that was a day.
But in 2019? Nothing special comes to mind.
It was a Tuesday, always one of my busier days of the week. When I was done, I probably went home, ate dinner and watched the news or a ballgame or something.
In other words, it was an ordinary day, like the ordinary days before it and the ordinary days after until we went on vacation a few weeks later.
Once vacation was over, I figured the ordinary days would resume … until I was informed on my second day back that I would soon be surplus to requirements.
And we all know what happened the next March.
Whatever milestones we cite when we talk about getting back to “normal,” having “ordinary” days wouldn’t be bad right now, either.