What Are Your Priorities?

photo credit

I go to Starbucks every morning before work. It’s my latest guilty pleasure, since starting a new corporate job a few months ago.

I have this incredibly adult thing that has developed on it’s own: a routine. Usually routines scare me and bore me, to the point where I have to purposely shake it up when it becomes too repetitive. But no, not now. I am trying to embrace my new found maturity.

I have this little routine, where I go to Starbucks every morning and get a quad, Venti, non-fat Vanilla latte. Quad, meaning four shots of espresso. And, yes, I know this is somewhat absurd, but as we all know, I just don’t do moderation well.

So, I’m waiting in the ridiculously long line, blending in seamlessly with all of the Orange County yuppies, as I sleepily scroll through my emails on my Blackberry, trying to avoid as much human contact as possible because I am naturally not a morning person even when I am without a hangover, as I have been recently more often than not in my newly sober existence.

I finally get my coffee, and balance my zucchini walnut muffin, the overpriced single banana that I pay too much for because I don’t plan ahead enough to go to the supermarket ahead of time, and my wallet and keys. For some reason I don’t carry my purse into Starbucks every morning, I just grab my wallet, phone and keys. I think it’s easier this way, and then I proceed to juggle and almost drop something. Every morning. Some things I do don’t make any sense. And, yes, I know this is the definition of insanity. I’m coming to accept that I’m just partially insane, and becoming okay with it.

I slip out the back alley towards my car, and step off the curb on my new black, four inch stiletto boots that I just got for winter. I almost drop the damn banana, and swear to myself that next time I’m going to bring in my purse so that I am not constantly juggling, like an idiot. And then, BAM. My heel catches a corner of the uneven pavement as I begin to cross the alley and I am falling. I land all of my weight on my right knee, and it hurts. Like a bitch.

I’m on the pavement, stunned and incredibly embarrassed for a couple seconds. I look around to see if anyone saw me fall, not sure which is more painful: the physical throbbing and burning in my knee, or my bruised ego from just eating shit in a nice outfit. The incredible thing is that my coffee is still securley in my right hand, and my wallet in the other. I saved my precious Starbucks.

A young looking guy of high school age is about twenty seconds behind me, and I turn around and see him. He parks next to me most mornings, and we have an odd Groundhogs Day moment on most days, since we seems to park in the same spot within the same five minute period. I look back at him, and make eye contact, with my cute, snug sweater dress planted firmly under my ass on the dirty asphalt. He just stares at me, with no reaction and walks by. I make one of those half-forced awkward smiles because I don’t know what else to do. He should be offering to help me up like a normal person, and I shouldn’t have fallen and skinned my knee like a four year old. My awkward, apologetic half smile turns into anger at his bad manners and I roll my eyes and uncover my knee from the tight, black leggings to survey the damage. Skin flakes out from under the fabric as I lift it up, and bright, fresh blood is rising to the surface. Damn. And now I’m late for work.

I quickly pick up my bruised banana off the ground, and not so easily try to pick up my bruised ego. Maybe it’d just be easier to hang my head and leave it there in the alley, where it belongs.

photo credit

As I hobble into work moments later, I am oddly proud of myself for saving my coffee. I sacrificed physical pain for not having to wait in the dreaded long line again at Starbucks, pay the $6.00 again to replace the spilled coffee, or God forbid, go without it for a morning. If I just dropped the cup, and put my hands out to catch my fall, I could have avoided being in such pain. Catching all of your weight on your palms is much more resilient than the force of falling from 5′ 8″ and landing on a hard knee cap.

Upon refection, it shocks that my priorities were so screwed up. Sure, I’m prone to ridiculously over analyzing situations… but if you asked me ahead of time if I would have dropped the damn coffee and caught myself, my answer would be 100% yes. The money for the coffee, the price of being late to work, and the bother of having to wait in line again were not worth the physical pain that I had to endure for the next week as my scabbed, black and blue knee healed. But, my natural instincts and split second decision in the .7546 seconds it took me to fall were completely the opposite. All I remember thinking as I careened towards the pavement, was “just don’t drop the coffee.”

This makes me wonder if my other self perceptions are also way off. The reality of what I did in the situation was a 180 from how I would have guessed myself to react. This kind of scares me to think how far off my priorities might be, without me consciously realizing it. I think my priority would be to avoid physical pain, above almost all else. But, my reality was that I valued my coffee over hurting myself. My instinctual priorities, when pushed to react within a split second, were very different than I would have guessed.

This makes me think. Perhaps a bit too much. Maybe we all need to test ourselves more. Maybe we need to metaphorically fall more and fail more, in order to see how we react. The perfectionist in me hates this concept, but there is no other way to know how you would react under pressure until it’s on.

All I know is the next time I fall, I’m dropping the fucking coffee. Taking care of myself is being brought up a few levels on my priority list.