Beepie, Beep!

The alarm goes, firing off the Beepie, Beep, Beepie, Beep sound I loathe. And, of course, it isn’t my alarm, it’s my husband, Clint’s. Seven a.m. on the dot. He continues snoring oblivious to the sound or my irritation. I shove him awake. He hits the snooze button. Great, I get to repeat the drill in exactly fifteen minutes.

He couldn’t care less whether I ever get enough sleep. The answer is, I don’t. Beepie, Beep, Beepie, Beep. . .his fifteen are up. This time, however, I don’t acknowledge it or assist Clint with jump starting his day.

I roll out of bed, pad into the kitchen for a quick breakfast of dry cheese toast and a diet soda. I count out and take my medications, all five of them. The comfy, cotton maxi dress I want to wear remains in the dryer. I reach the over-the-door rack in the laundry room for the wrinkle release spray. I pull the dress from the cold dryer, liberally spray the fabric and toss it back into the drum, setting the timer for ten minutes.

In that span of time, I brush my teeth, apply a bit of makeup, and use the toilet. Yep, the alarm is still Beepie, Beep, Beeping. I shed my PJs, don a bra and a pair of shoes, walk back to the dryer in my underwear and flip flops. The dryer greets me, “Beeeeep! I’m done!” it seems to say. My dress is nice and toasty sheathing me in a cascade of steaming, spa-like warmth as it coasts over my frame.

I return to the Beepie, Beeping room to collect my bag. Clint is still “out.” Rather churlishly, I slam the bedroom door, get in my car, which Beeping-ly reminds me to buckle my Beeping seatbelt. I drive to the library where I earn my Beep and Beep, sorry, I mean my bread and butter. At least here, it will be sublimely quiet and peaceful.

I’m not sure what it would sound like, the universe laughing, but, trust me, it’s laughing. The first task of the day is to check in the books waiting for pick-up in the overnight book-drop.  Beep, Beep, I check them in. I carry myself to the bookcases to re-shelve them.

Next, a fax comes in.” Beeeeep, I’m finished’” it says once it spits out the final page. Meanwhile, the delivery driver backs up to our side walk, Beep, Beep, Beeping for clearance. He unloads the packages onto a dolly and brings them through the set of double doors and into the building. Beep, Beep, Beep, he scans in the packages with their bar codes.

A woman and her toddler enter. So adorable, I think. My smile morphs into a Grinch-worthy sneer. Beep, Beep, Beep, every step the toddler takes announces his where-a-bouts sounding like a dog’s chew toy. The mother approaches the circulation desk. She asks me to fax her doctor’s excuse to her workplace. My eyelids play dueling banjos, my brain craps out momentarily while invisible smoke issues from my ears.

I transmit the single page, turning down the volume. BEEP!!! Oh, for f*cks sakes, I turned the volume up instead of down!!! My hand shakes slightly as I return the woman’s excuse with a confirmation receipt. “That’ll be a dollar, please,” I say. “Oh, dear, I forgot my change,” she replies. She whips out her phone, pressing buttons on the keypad. Beep, Beep, Beep (area code), and seven more Beeps for the number. There I stand, clickety, click, clicking the retractable pen I hold in a fist made for stabbing. In comes a girl, I assume to be the woman’s daughter, ”Here ya go, four Quarters.” The mother responds, “Thank you, sweetie.”

Another sound rings from outside. It’s the garbage pick-up. Crap, I forgot to put out the trash. I run to retrieve the can and push it to the curb, just in time. Beep, Beep, Beep, the vehicle sounds while loading. Now empty, I run the can back to the side of the building.

A family of three entered during my absence. They have a stack of books, DVDs, and puzzles to check out. I pick up my scanner-gun and count the Baker’s-dozen items. Beeeep, Beeeep, Beeeep, I bag their things. Now, my head is jerking uncontrollably and I keep arranging my glasses.

I notice the time, It’s noon and I am starving. There’s a supply of sandwiches I keep in the breakroom’s refrigerator. I nab two peanut butter and hazelnuts on multi-grain bread. I eat, accompanied with a bottled water and a bag of low-fat chips. After a Beep or two, sorry, a beat or two, I mean, I begin to settle down.

I re-position myself at the circulation desk. I greet an elderly man in a wheelchair, and the young lady who assists him. He says he’s interested in Westerns; can I point him in the right direction? I lead them to a set of wire racks at the back of the library.

I then occupy myself by decorating the bulletin board in the children’s section. Several blissful minutes pass. Beep. . .Beep. . . Beep. It appears to be emanating from the old man. It’s his oxygen machine running on a low battery. Undisturbed, he continues his perusal. Ten minutes and he’s finally ready to check out. The Beeps of his machine hit the off-beats of my scanner’s. I wish them a good day as my lips twitch and spasm.

At the bulletin board, I resume my set up and decorating. Some of my die cuts are quite flimsy – a good pass through the laminator will help. I turn on the machine, the red-light flashes until it is ready. Beeeeeep- Oh, dear God in Heaven! I moan.

By the day’s end, my whole body is quivering, shaking, and trembling so badly, Elvis couldn’t keep up. I have trouble grasping the key fob in my bag. Finally, I get into my SUV and start the engine, quickly engaging the seatbelt.

As I drive home, I say over and over Beep, Beep, Ba Beep, Beep. I walk into the house. Clint greets me. “How was your day, honey?” All I hear myself say is Beepie, Beep, Beepie, Beep.