Feelin’ Groovy


If we were having coffee this morning, I’d probably have to toss you a to-go mug and tell you to try to keep up. My boys are coming home today, and I’ve got to be to work by 2:45, so my morning is going to be a whirlwhind.

Taking the time to write a blog post is probably not the best use of my time, to be perfectly honest. But that’s sort of what I want to talk about today.

We’re all busy. That’s just the way it is. It’s part of being a grownup. I work my two jobs plus some freelance writing and of course, I work on my books. I try to squeeze in a little bit of housework here and laundry there, and once in a while I have an extra ten minutes to unpack yet another box of stuff I probably don’t need but brought to the new apartment anyway. Last week, I also made cookies for the tailgate party at the school, and I managed to hem a pair of pants for one of the kids in the marching band. I even found a few minutes to throw some stitches into a baby quilt I’ve been working on for almost four years.

The baby I was making it for started kindergarten this year. At this rate, the quilt may be finished in time for her first child.

At any rate, I have been trying to settle into a routine. I’ve always been a morning person, so I’ve been setting my alarm a little bit earlier every day. I drag myself out of bed and try to check a few items off my to-do list before my day really starts. I’m usually up and functioning from 5 a.m. until I get home just before midnight.

Last night’s shift at the hotel was even busier than my personal life. I was alone at the desk on a Saturday night with a stack full of check-ins, a family reunion in the meeting room, and a mountain of laundry in the back. I was on the run the entire shift, delivering rollaways and cribs and extra blankets to rooms on the third floor, riding the elevator up and down in search of missing luggage carts, and answering phone calls from people who couldn’t understand why every hotel in town was booked up. I was busy folding sheets, making coffee, delivering pitchers of ice water, answering questions about the internet password, and resisting the urge to throat-punch the ridiculously loud inflatable ghost in the lobby that is going to drive me to insanity long before Halloween ever actually gets here.

It was around ten o’clock when the ladies from the family reunion gathered in the lobby and asked me to take their picture. They were laughing and handing me phones and cameras, and all of them kept shouting “wait!” or “hold on!” until finally one of the older women shushed them all and reminded them that I still had work to do, so would they please just quiet down so I could take their picture and go? Then she turned to me and said, “You really seem to have so much fun with your job.”

It knocked the wind right out of me.

She was right; I was having a blast.

I love what I do. I am good at customer service. I’ve been so caught up in the cycle of working and feeling sorry for myself that it never dawned on me that I’m actually having fun again.

I still miss doing hair. I miss the regular customers who came to me as kids, and for their proms, and for their weddings, and then with their own children. I miss my little old ladies who came to me for their roller sets every Friday for eighteen years. I miss the smell of perm solution and the tingle of bleach on my fingertips because I always hated wearing gloves during color services. I miss having that little nick between my first two fingers that I consistently gave myself at least once a week. I even miss coming home at night and finding those tiny pieces of hair in my pockets and sometimes inside my bra.


Okay, too far– I do not miss the ones inside my bra. Especially not the ones that worked their way into my skin from time to time and became infected.

The point is I know I’m never going back. I’ve known it since six months after my accident. When the judge denied my Disability claim — and my appeals — I accepted the fact that the rest of my life will be spent doing something other than the job I loved. Just like I’ve accepted the fact that I’m always going to hurt, I’m always going to tire easily, and half of my left hand is always going to be numb. It is what it is, right?

Last night, those wonderful ladies made me realize that I’m having fun at work again. I’m not just punching the clock and earning a paycheck; I’m enjoying myself. My inner snob wants me to strive for something better than minimum-wage, second shift, entry-level stuff.  But my inner snob is kind of a jerk, to be perfectly honest.

I’ve been struggling all along to accept. Accept that my life is different now. Accept that my body has changed. Accept that I’m divorced and my kids are growing up and the world is changing faster than I can keep up; accept that life is flying by and I’m just along for the ride, hanging on for dear life.

I’m done accepting. I want to have fun again. I want to enjoy my time here on Earth, enjoy my friends and family and yes, enjoy the work that I do. So what if I can’t check off everything on my to-do list every day?

You know what? Give me back that to-go cup and let me give you my favorite mug with the seagulls on it. I’ll throw a batch of Jiffy blueberry muffins in the oven, and we’ll sit down at my grandmother’s old table and really talk.

It’s Sunday morning, the sun is shining, and I don’t have to be to work for a few more hours. Let’s enjoy today for what it is.

Be sure to visit Diana over at Part-Time Monster to link up and see what some other bloggers have had to say with their weekly coffee share.  Thanks to Diana for hosting the #coffeeshare posts!

Author: A.J. Goode

I am a romance novelist, single mother of three, and a high school lunchlady. To be completely honest, I have no idea which of those jobs is the most rewarding and which is the biggest challenge. I love them all. I write romance novels about the kind of people who might pass me on the street every day. My characters are often hurting in some way, and need to learn to trust others in order to heal themselves. I also blog about trying to focus on writing, and about my day-to-day experiences in small-town America. I write about life. The good, the bad, and the just plain odd.

15 thoughts on “Feelin’ Groovy”

  1. I’m glad you have a job where you’re happy. It’s all too common these days for us to accept unhappiness in a job and/or to keep trying to climb to have a little more money—it’s alienating.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Diana. It was such a shock for me to realize that I actually AM happy in my job! How silly is that to be happy and not even know it?!

      I am so happy to be a part of your weekly coffee share. Thank you again for letting me part of such a terrific group.


  2. Love, love, love this post today. Thanks for taking your morning coffee in hand to write it. I sometimes forget to enjoy my life too – and it’s pretty good right now. I do enjoy my job and my life, but have been feeling depressed for no good reason. Thank you for the sunshine in my day today – because of you. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. It sounds like you and I have both done a lot of thinking about the direction our lives are taking. We can either embrace it, or let it pass us by, right? Thanks for writing this! You have no idea how much your words helped put my own life in perspective for me.


    1. Deb, you have no idea how many times your words have pulled me out of a bad day and helped give me a fresh dose of perspective just when I needed it most. I’m glad I could return the favor with this one.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. It’s good to hear that you are happy doing what you’re doing, as busy as you might be. All three of my adult children are either looking to change jobs or have just changed jobs. Yup, not everyone is happy doing what they’re doing, or doing it for too long.


    1. I’ve heard it said that most people will change careers an average of three times in their adult lives. I know this particular career change wasn’t my choice, and I’ve really fought it every step of the way. In a perfect world, I’d still be doing what I loved (and making a heck of a lot more money!) but it’s not a perfect world. I’m just very, very lucky to have found a substitute that works for me for the time being.

      I hope your kids are as lucky, and they all find the perfect fit career-wise. Here’s wishing all the best to them and to you!

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Wonderful! As we get older we become wiser. It’s the friends, the kind strangers, that cup of fresh coffee that brings us joy. We’ve walked through the disillusion, broken-trust, and hellfire trying to carve our niche. A.J., it took me forever to come to my senses. I feel time chasing me down the street. I stop, turn toward it and remind it that I own it now. God calls my hour.

    I’d love a cup of coffee.


  6. Your inner snob is a jerk… LOL! Mine too. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and experience. It really touched me and the truth is, we can find joy no matter what live presents us. You’re a living example of that.


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