Holly Golightly and the Wednesday Weepers

I always try to be upbeat when I go to work. I figure, even if I'm having a shit-rotten day, or I'm exhausted or sick or whatever, why bitch and moan about it? I mean, it's not going to get you anywhere, right?

So I guess I face my days, in my own mind at least, like that fabulous Audrey Hepburn character (though I'm nowhere near as elegant or thin). And most days the Golightly persona lasts me all day.

Except Wednesdays.

Wednesdays produce that special crop of toddlers known as The Weepers. It doesn't matter who, what, where, when, why or how. They come into my area and bad things happen and before you know it, they're crying. Some of them shed a few small tears and go on with their business. Others carry on like the apocalypse is imminent, right there at the train table. Still others do themselves bodily harm and have a legitimate reason to scream like banshees. It all adds up to a chaotic cacophony that pierces into my brain and I can literally feel new gray hairs popping out of my scalp with each new voice that joins the din.

The Wednesday Weepers do a heck of a job on my Holly Golightly persona. Holly's smile starts to slip, her shoulders slump, and she starts thinking of ways to shut everyone up, permanent like, as she's cleaning up the building blocks and putting the chairs back and the puzzles together for the 900 th time. She starts thinking of that bottle of Tangueray in the cabinet and how convenient it would be if it were right here, within reach (with some tonic, ice & lime of course).

But then, a miracle occurs.

In a rush, as one herd, they all leave. For destinations unknown--probably to go cry in Target, as all young children seem wont to do, but who cares? I'm not there, and they're not here.

And the preschool area is my own little slice of heaven once again.