Groan
By Susan Mardele
It’s time.
I know it is.
In fact, it’s long past time.
I’ve put it off as long as I can.
Procrastination won’t make it any easier
and it won’t get it done.
I wait until the last possible moment of the day,
gathering my courage,
Walk to my car like a condemned woman,
open the door and sit down.
I sit and stare through the windshield,
gathering my courage, and sigh.
I crank the ignition and uncharacteristically
drive under the speed limit to my destination.
Again, I sit in my car, staring out the windshield,
thinking of all the things I could be doing instead.
Finally, I sigh again, open the door and step out,
my usually brisk walking pace slowed to a meander.
The doors open, and I step in,
breathing the over-air-conditioned air.
Walking inside, I look around, disoriented.
Spotting my destination,
I reluctantly point in that direction.
Finally, I face my dread.
After an hour of trial and error,
Grunting, twisting and groaning
under the harsh fluorescent lights,
I choose the least offensive
and check out with my new swimsuit.