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Friday, March 13, 2015

Don't touch my locker.

If you've been hanging out here for any amount of time, you may have picked up on the fact that I swim at a gym several times a week.  It is great exercise, a good stress release, and it comes with plenty of entertainment.  What could be better, really?  I have been doing this regularly for the last four years (minus a few stints from being pregnant or sick, of course) and I have developed what you may call certain patterns (ruts? routines?).  If any of these patterns are disrupted, it is somewhat bewildering.  

I know.  I have issues.  I'm not particular about where I park (although Barb is) or what lane I swim in - within reason - I am not going to swim in lane 8 or something, I mean, that would be totally ridiculous (get real here, dudes).  I'm not going to change how I warm up  (backstroke starts at 5:40, give or take 30 seconds).  But most of all, what is most normalizing in a day is "my" locker.  

I mean, I say "my" in sort of a relative way since they don't permit you to keep your own locker (which they TOTALLY should then mine would be safe always and forever), but come on - it's the same locker I've used for four years.  Sometimes, when the Resolutionists come, I have to be on guard because they don't know how things go around the gym and they think they can just bust in and take my shower, dry their hair with my hairdryer (that would be the short one that probably is supposed to be used for drying your hands) and stand at the sink next to Susan.  Give me a break.  Puh-leeze.  I can tolerate them because (apparently NOT from my deep patience for such things) I know that they will only be there from January 1-February 14.  That is how long most Resolutionists last, of course.  

totally not my locker room, but you get the idea

This last week was none of that, which is why it was so concerning to me.  Out of the blue, some lady had the audacity to show up however many minutes before me and take MY locker.  She had all this crap just barfing out of it in every direction in some sort of hot mess.  

I stopped.  What do I do?  Where will I go now?  Try to look nonchalant, Ms. Daisy.  Hold it together.  Do not tap her on the shoulder and tell her she took your locker.  She will not understand (and plus that might be a little teensy bit nuts).  Do not loudly proclaim that you are discombobulated from some new person taking your locker and laughing in a way that sounds forced or maniacal.  Just smile and go get a different locker.  It's just one day.  

I have a spot on the end near the mirrors (and hair/hand dryers) so I just took the one opposite her in the same cove.  This was not optimal nor was it cutting it for me.  The locker door was going the wrong way and totally not how it is supposed to be and was also limiting my ablity to do my highly specialized routine.  Very disturbing, very disturbing.  

I swim with a psychologist, who I felt I needed to immediately confess my deep issue to in order to see if I needed to be seriously reprimanded, drugged, or given the "really?!" face.  She told me I was fine, and that we are creatures of habit, unless I punched the lady in the face, then at that point it would not be fine.  Okay, cool.  So far, so good.  I can handle this.  I am bigger than this.  No bigs!  Ha ha!  I can be flexible!  It is only one day.

Until it wasn't.  

I came back the next time and Locker Taker Lady was back and IN MY SPOT again.  I repressed my shock as best as I could (which might not have been so repressed).  I remarked to the girl who is usually a few lockers down from me that, "Sorry, I'm not sure if I am using your locker, I had to slide down a few since, um, yeah, can see why."  as I glanced in a forlorn manner at my locker, taken over by Locker Taker Lady (who, for the record, was not standing there when I said that, in case you were getting too horrified at me).  

Last night, I decided that this kind of crap was not going to happen again.  No way, babe.  This crap was going to get fixed once and for all.  I was going to get my locker back, dang it.  So, how to do it?  Wait to see if she is there and ask her to move?  No.  Just give it up and roll with it, be flexible?  No.  Find another locker?  HECK no!

Obviously, do the crazy thing.  Do what must be done.  Wake up ten minutes earlier to secure the position, of course!  My alarm went off this morning and I was so deep in dreamland I was instructing a multi-age classroom of children how to do push-ups and shaking hands with the ones who were doing it successfully while discountenancing and frowning upon the others.  (Drill sergeant?  Whatever do you mean?)  

This only jarred me momentarily as the locker came to mind and I flew up out of bed and nearly ran to the bathroom to get ready.  I was in the car at least ten minutes earlier than usual and off to the races.  I practically jogged to the entrance and around the corner to get to that locker room to check to see if I was going to be successful.  

GLORY!  Mine, all mine!  VICTORY!  (Try to contain yourself.  Remember, be poised.  Smile.  No, not like a crazed clown.)  

The rest of the workout was splendid.  On top of gaining locker victory, it was like the wishes I had for doing IM had fallen down out of the sky and into the pool and my reality.  A perfect way to start a Friday.  

Now for a nap because after doing push-ups and teaching in my sleep and waking up ten minutes earlier, I am pretty tired.  

Peace, love, and guard the fort, 
Ms. Daisy


  1. Too funny (and a bit crazy)! I was speaking to a friend the other day and had a lively discussion on the dangers of tattoos. Could Ms. Daisy please comment on this? Thanks

  2. Dear Aquaman,

    My favorite scientist (Mike Adams) just sent out an update that he was in the middle of testing tattoo inks for heavy metals. When his data comes out, I will dedicate a post to that and to other unhealthy things that we take for granted within society like colognes (endocrine disruptors) and chronic lack of sleep.

    Ms. Daisy