Outside the Comfort Zone

Sometimes for work my husband has to “pull” public records from the county courthouse.  During a busy time he asked to me to do this errand for him, and then he was gone. I had an address and two case numbers with names.  When you pull records are you removing them from a tight space?  Come on now, this is a far cry from my sweet little kitchen in suburbania.

My first debacle downtown was going down a one way street the wrong way, and of course there was a police officer standing on the corner just waiting for me.  I threw my hand up over my mouth and looked mortified in an attempt to solicit sympathy, and I guess it worked, or else I looked too stupid to bother because she shook her head and waved me on.

Next I tried to stride along towards the court house trying to look as though I fit in, but I was the only one of my kind. Skinny, young, vegan looking things walking boldly in strappy shirts and the perfunctory look of boredom, an army of tatted and khaki clad homeless sitting next to their carts on the sidewalks, and a multitude of very disgruntled looking men of all ages streaming in and out of giant white building.  I was the only file puller I could see.

Walking in the door I was immediately confronted with a security check point; “Take off all metal objects” was the only sign I saw in the confusion, plus small trays on one side and a conveyor belt on the other, and three intimidating guards. “What are you waiting for?” snarled one of them when I didn’t bring the tray with my cell phone and belt over to the other side fast enough.  At the directions desk she barked, “Basement, number 42”, which ended up being a warehouse of files separated from us “pullers” by a wide white counter and a few very bored looking clerks.  “It is a felony to remove the file from the room or a paper from the metal brads inside the folder”, yet there was a Xerox machine to my left and I needed copies.  Questions about how this all worked raced through my mind as I tried to glean some insight by watching other people in the room.

After filling out a few forms one clerk went to get my file.  It was full of pages and pages of forms relating to a trial.  Which one was I looking for?  At fifty cents a copy I decided to put a marker on each page for her to copy that looked like it might have important information, hoping I didn’t miss that ONE piece of paper I was there for, whatever it was.

Asking about my other file I heard, “Mumble mumble 2005. “What happened in 2005?” Tired clerk, “I said room number 2005 third floor!”  Four windows along a counter and one says “Start Here”, so I stood there to wait…until someone from behind tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Would you mind putting your name down on the clipboard?!” How long had they been waiting for me while I just stood there like a dummy? Sorry!  I was a fumbling file puller.

So why did I tell you this?  My point is that sometimes we are pushed out of our comfort zone.  The way you live, how you shop, what you eat…these are all comfortable habits inside your comfort zone.  A diet and/or exercise change might be on the outside of that comfort zone, adding some stress to your life at first, but eventually it will become the new, healthy “norm”.  I am passionate about helping you make changes healthy changes which will benefit you now and in the far future. This week fish with cooked kale and a vegetarian chili might feel as comfortable to you as my trip to the courthouse, but trust me, everything gets easier with practice, including how you eat.  I sure learned a lot by my experience down at the courthouse this week. By the way, need any files pulled?

Molly