Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions.
For all you self-absorbed people out there-
I thought I'd let you know that we are in the midst of
Random Acts of Kindness Week.
(Hereto referred to as : RAOK).
It means to perform some selfless act this week
that will make someone happy or
assist them in some way to make their life easier.
It can be spontaneous or you can plan it all out-
but it just has to be sincere.
Sometimes it can backfire, though.
I put my compassionate heart
to the test yesterday
while out running errands.
First of all, I guess I caused
a bit of a traffic jam downtown.
My random act of kindness was to
let the rush hour traffic
merge into my lane.
But my heart was so full of kindness
that I just stopped and
let every single car through.
Who knew the state police would be
called in to remedy the three mile train of
disgruntled, honking, cursing commuters?
The officer apparently didn't know what week it is.
That pompous donut-eating swine
gave me a ticket any way.
But I didn't lose heart.
I continued on my RAOK journey
and decided to let my sincerity
flow into the maze of aisles at the grocery store.
I held the door open for an elderly woman,
put a rolling orange back on the produce shelf,
complimented the baker on the sample cookies
and let the deli guy screw up my sliced ham
for the umpteenth time without giving him
a good tongue lashing like I usually do.
I was feeling pretty holy about the whole thing.
That was until some
decided she would get in on the act.
(Obviously she must have read about
RAOK week in the Wall Street Journal).
(While sipping latte.)
(And texting her Carnival Cruise agent.)
"You take the last package," I smiled lukewarmly at her,
placing the fresh chicken breasts into her
diamond encrusted fingers.
"Oh, positively not," she whined, her nose still sniffing
out my hillbilly lineage.
"No, you take it," I said adamantly,
tossing the bloody bird into her mink-y arms.
"I insist!" she snapped, sideswiping my stupefied face
with the ten pound family pack.
The rest of the story isn't pretty.
All I can tell you is -
it was the biggest cat fight since Dynasty.
Once my husband left work and posted my bail,
we went home and settled in for the night.
I really began wondering if my sincerity was genuine.
I began to question my whole life-
the meaning of the universe-
the Tibetan practice of loving-kindness
and tranquil meditation-
and if there really was
less than two calories in a Tic Tac.
"Are you going to fix some supper, Oh Sainted One?"
my laughing husband asked,
bowing sadistically before me.
"Get it yourself," I answered tiredly,
"All my goody is gone."