That moment when you're told you have to drop everything because a particular someone dropped by the club and you just have to take a "visitor shot"... ya, ok. How about no?! Perhaps I could say that awkward moment when but that really depends on who you'd consider it awkward for.
I'd say sorry but I'm not sorry and was I really supposed to drop everything for someone who took over four months to give our dream any kind of notice?! That's how long we're been working on our dream, two of which we've been slaving away at our building renovations. So I refused to go.
It was early afternoon and it was my first chance to clean the house and catch up on household chores in what felt like months. I've got dust bunnies on my TV that are piggy-backing on other dust bunnies, perhaps they're even breeding now!!! I can't remember the last time I've thrown in a load of laundry and took it out to hang it up in the same day. Loads get thrown in and then a couple of days later they are finally up on the drying rack or thrown on our bedroom floor to dry.
There was no way on God's green Earth I was going to drop everything or anything for that matter and if that makes me sound a bit bitter and upset, well.... ya!!! This boxing club is our baby and when she, our visitor today, had her baby we were expected to drop everything, do errands for her, buy gifts and then sit on the hospital floor while she rambled on about baby socks, baby this and baby that. I'm not a fan of babies to start off with so I really have nothing to add to a baby-infested conversation beyond my "babies" all have four legs or have round corner poles (aka my boxing club).
"Anyone can open their legs", a friend joked.with me, "but not everyone can make their dream a reality".
I appreciated the joke to lighten me up, am always in the mode for an overdose of sarcasm, but the reality is I still think particular members of Snickers' family just don't get it. Boxing will never be a respected profession in their eyes so I think perhaps we've disappointed them by opening up a boxing club. I think they think we don't work, like I've been given life fed to me on a silver spoon and have passed this spoon on to Snickers. I was apparently the "sugar mama" who brought their Snickers from rags to riches, who gave him lunch money and supposedly had the easiest of easy lives.
I'll admit it, up until moving out of my parent's house for university, my life was relatively easy. My parents always supported me but they also taught me responsibility. I was the kid down the street that delivered the local paper and Sears catalogue so I could buy myself a bike. At age twelve I started my own sewing company, sewing mini backpacks, pencil cases and bags from of my mom's quilting scraps. Anything I have, unless it was bought for me as a gift for my birthday or Christmas, I earned the money to buy it myself.
When I moved away for school, my nice cushiony life turned hard. I've been shot at once, stabbed twice, face slashed, and I broke my hand in an attack -- and that was just at the job I worked at to put myself through university. I came to Korea to start a new life, to end a three and a half year secret double life I wanted so eagerly to get out so I could just be one person -- myself.
So, the point of all this Sunday afternoon rambling is that pardon me if after months of slaving over my dream I do not jump up and feel "privileged" that this particular person finally took that ten minute drive to stop by our "cute place". Snickers tried to bail her out of my "bad books" she had obviously stepped in by saying "but she had a baby, she's busy", but that did very little if anything to justify what I can only label as disrespect.
"A baby is NO excuse. My friend just had a premature baby and look at her; she hosted the opening party of her resturant tonight!" I told him. My baby may not have two legs and two arms like our visitor's baby but it is sure as hell is just as important. Respect that, if not for my sake then for your brother's sake, Snickers.
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