Can Take Me Out, But You Can’t Dress Me Up
Halloween is quickly approaching, which means scary encounters ahead such as: creepy clowns roaming the streets, spirits from Ouija boards emerging, witches casting spells (not the cool Harry Potter kind) and the sound of your door bell ringing.
But what do humans find the most terrifying? Change. I’m not sure why, but we seem to be programmed that way.
Lately, we have been making adjustments to the recreation department at work. New schedules, new staff, new programs, newly cranky Recreation Therapist (nah, never). It seems to be causing quite a stir, but I have stayed calm, cool and hidden in the office. I personally see nothing wrong with a few ch-ch-ch-ch-changes (and neither does David Bowie).
A friend once told me, “the thing with time is, it changes.” Not only is this reassuring, but quite frankly it is true!
I accept change with open arms – I enjoy moving around, I change my clothes approximately 8 times before leaving the house, I often (too often) change the colour of my hair and on occasion I change my mind.
I am great with the idea of change, but apparently I’m not so great with the concept of changing my clothes…
Have you ever noticed that we are always on our best behaviour when someone ‘important’ is in our proximity such as: a manager, director, teacher, principal, grandparent, parent, gorgeous guy, etc.? I have a tendency of forgetting that people are always watching, which is odd that I forget since I LOVE to gawk.
The residents in the long term care home are always keeping an eye on me; They never resist calling me out if I am not up to par or will make fun of me if I make a mistake (not that I ever do).
In Two Lefts Don’t Make a Right, a resident witnessed my clumsiness, in this particular story, a resident spotted my stupidity.
This Summer, we set out to William Watson Lodge, which is a beautiful accessible area in Kananaskis with cabins, lodges, mountains, lakes and cheap coffee.
Only God knows why, but on this excursion, I was mandated to the grill-I wouldn’t exactly call myself George Foreman. The beads of sweat dripped from my forehead as the heat wafted from the gigantic BBQ and the residents’ judged me...
A resident called from the other end of the terrace, “Um Rachelle? Your pants are on inside out.”
I caught a glimpse of the look of disgust in his eye as I glanced down and noticed something was not right with the seams of my pants.
I thanked the resident and stated, “I must have gotten ready in the dark this morning.”
He snickered and kindly asked if I was going to correct it, which was a fair question, but following lunch I had completely forgotten and the pants ended up staying that way!
What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
