God is so good. God is so good. God is so good.
He has a plan for us all. So stop worrying your pretty little head. Don't fret, my pet. He's got it under. control.
I wish I had a Bible verse to throw in here for good measure. But I don't.
All I got is this here testimony.
On Sunday I defrosted porkchops and seasoned them up like I learned from watching Fahj do all my life. Some teriyaki. some dried spices. a little sofrito that Keesha left in the fridge. Mix it all up. Cover it up. Stick it in the fridge. And let it marinate.
These weren't meant for Sunday dinner. No no. Fahj says fail to prepare is to prepare to fail. Which means season your meat at least one day prior so you can prepare a good meal. Anything less will fail.
There aren't words to describe what kinda day yesterday was. Let's just call it overwhelming as I've yet to create the hyperbole that adequately captures it in six syllables or less. But an angel descended from HR and handed me a ticket to see John Legend & The Roots so at least the day could end on a high note. Seeing Mr. Legend twice in less than a week is certainly a win, so as long as I kept my eye on that prize, doing three things at once despite only having one pair of each key sensory organ didn't feel that bad anymore.
And then, as I finally pried myself away from the computer to head to the elevators to meet co-workers headed to the show, a literal roadblock entered my path and detoured me to 9-main. To answer a "quick question" that sent me back to my desk. to continue working.
I finished doing two things that I didn't plan on tackling last night and decided to try the whole leaving-to-go-see-my-fave-soul-singer-perform thing again. The new girl on the team had a ticket as well, so we were going to head over there together. I went to scoop her and guess what she was doing. yep, working. in fact, 80% of my team was still in the office at 8:26pm, so I guess I was being a slacker.
we made it to the concert. and one text message shout out from @parlorwestnyc projected onscreen, "Ordinary People" and five vodka cranberries later, I was in my happy place.
and my porkchops? they were still in the fridge. marinating.
today, today, today. what to say about today? well, all day I felt like vomiting. there was a solid iron bar of tension lodged between my shoulder blades. every time I sat down to work on one thing, my phone rang and I had to run to do something else. somehow now I had to do five things at once, since I so skillfully mastered doing three things at once yesterday. my boss' boss said I looked stressed. I wonder where she got that silly little idea? they're asking me to lead an onboarding presentation tomorrow that I technically have never been onboarded to. the student can only become the algebra teacher if she has been taught basic arithmetic. except at my job. I teach statistics in these parts. just don't check my math.
and during all this madness, I had one guy killing me softly with his sweet words and flashbacks of his bad D, another one saying he wasn't going to give me the attention that I need tonight, and the following text message exchange from another:
harper: smh u get on my nerves
me: be nice
harp: I try but u bring out another side of me
me: But I'm just being me. you don't like when I'm being me? would you like me to be you?
harp: lol hush...did u eat dinner
and that's when it hit me. it's after 9 and I need to go home. dammit, I've got porkchops to cook.
home sweet sweet home. I went straight to the fridge. took out the bowl, peeled back the saran wrap, and saw the most glorious thing.
the porkchops completely absorbed the marinade.
that could only mean one thing.
these chops are SEASONED.
one large skillet and some olive oil later, I cooked 6 tender, juicy, amazingly flavored porkchops. and though I had no time to purchase the veggies to put on the side, warman did leave two coronas in the fridge #ftw.
and what did God reveal to me in the midst of all this?
if I'm too busy to have a social life, and, by extension, dating life,
and if my smart mouth gets me in trouble with every guy I talk to,
as long as a way to a man's heart remains his stomach,
I'll be alright.
amen.
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