A short essay I did in class today. We had 30 minutes to write a descriptive narrative about the best/worst day ever. Not some of my best work haha! :
Work.
As I rolled
around, squirming like a worm, from an amazing uncontrollable morning stretch, I
immediately noticed the difference. It
made me smile like a giddy school girl. I jumped up and pulled the curtains
back from the window. I placed my palm on the pane: ice cold. The day was
perfect. The sharp sound of my wake-up alarm interrupted my thoughts. As intensely
early as 7:30am was, I just rolled my eyes and grabbed a bath towel.
I fought with my keys to get
it into the little slot, only to realize it was the wrong key. After successfully starting the car slowly
rolled out of the driveway and over a ransacked trash bag. Yuck. The banana
peel had a death grip on my tire, and I did not have the heart to divorce the
two. I felt that awkward bump all the way to work, or in this case a lady’s
house. Thank goodness for GPS.
She opened the door with a
smile she had practiced and a rank smell I won’t soon forget. “Come in,” she
hacked. I could only think, “Dang girl, who knocked you up?” Contrary to the smell, her home was amazing;
filled with silk linens, crystal vases, and portraits of her clearly younger
days. She’s gorgeous, well was, and I was determined to find her underlying
beauty once more. She showed me a room in her house where we would get to work
privately. It looked out of place, as if it never had a name; not a bedroom or
an office, possibly a game room but never a dining room, without definition.
My equipment weighed a
ton. I lugged the ton from my trunk to the undefined room. I began my usual set
up routine: muslin, lights, tripod, camera, lens, make-up booth, clothes rack. I pulled out a few special items, designed for
clients like this one. Masking tape and hair removal creams were among that
list. I could hear her shuffling gaining volume, and soon she entered. “Ms.
Roosevelt, are you ready for me?” She nodded quietly with an uneasy smile and
made her way to the make-up booth. “Hair first,” she whispered.
Her hair looked great, or
as she put it, “I feel like I’m in my 20’s again!” She couldn’t stop whipping
her hair, like she belonged on Baywatch or something. The masking tape was
almost finished, but I made do with what I had. After using more than the
normal amount of airbrushing beads and concealer, I actually felt like we were
making progress. The more and more I “fixed” her, the more and more comfortable
she became.
“If you could place your
left hand a little further up, that’d be great.” She was an easy subject,
almost no direction needed. She had had practice; and if it weren’t for the
hundred photos I’d seen earlier, I’d definitely know now. After two easy hours
of shooting, we were finished. I showed
her the shots, as she excitedly pointed out the ones she loved the most. One in
particular resembled a photo on wall in the foyer. I could feel her tenseness.
I turned in my chair to see the bombshell flushed faced, quietly sobbing. I popped
up, threw my arms around her and waited. Just after what felt like three
minutes (which is eternity in hug years) she pulled back and gently said,
“Thank you so much.” I could see how much this meant to her.
I put my name on all the
photos, burned it onto a disc and began to pack. I guessed she was in the
shower. I packed my trunk and was ready to go, but I hadn’t been paid, so I
lingered. Five minutes pass, and I find
my way back inside. She was just coming down the stairs. I hadn’t noticed those
before. Carrying an envelope and a proud smile she hugged me once more and
thanked me once more. I totally made her day. We said our good-byes.
Before
I was too far from her house, at a stop light, I checked the envelope. Ms.
Roosevelt paid me two grand more than we had previously negotiated. Can we say
best day ever?
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The class is four hours long. All the classes are that long, or longer. -_- But it's a design school so what can you do. Well you can do what i do.. ahha DOODLE!
don't worry. I took notes tooooo
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fin. ☮
