Meeting in the Desert of Water

It is an hour into the meeting. There is a long agenda and no caffeine. I brought water but water just keeps you alive. It doesn’t enliven you. I need to be enlivened.

I used to chew gum. I used to have cough drops in my purse. Sometimes I carried a can of Diet Coke. I was never without resources. The contents of whole cabinets fit into my Coach purse, the one with the Western styling that could also hold my laptop. I’ve retired it.

I don’t carry a purse anymore. Now I put my phone in my back pocket. I carry a heavy-duty red water bottle with a screw on cap that I got as a very expensive giveaway at a resource fair about bike paths. I don’t think the person manning the booth meant for me to have the water bottle, it being very expensive, but once I had it in my hands, he could hardly snatch it away.

I declare a break in the meeting. This means I can go to the bathroom but there is no Diet Coke anywhere and no cookies. There are loaves of French bread put out on a table for senior center folks to take and I consider taking one and then ripping off chunks of bread to stuff in my mouth and washing the lump down with water from my red water bottle but decide I’m too refined to do such a thing. I go back to the meeting and drink more water.

My words feel like scrambled eggs in my mouth. I hold my head up with one hand. When the meeting is over, I consider laying down in the backseat of my car and having a nap. Instead, I drive home, and I eat yogurt with almonds on top and feel temporarily revived.

Afternoon meetings are so taxing.

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Photo by Andrew DesLauriers on Unsplash