Taed Up In A Twist Of Fate 27/ An uninspected mind
Posted on December 31, 2012
Happy New Year’s Eve. I know a lot of you are checking e-mails while you’re prepping for a hot celebration. Two thoughts: 1) If you’re gonna drink, don’t drive. This brings a fifteen mile run between a party that was close to boring except for the liquor and a bar through freezing rain at seventy-five mph. I could have killed myself, which on consideration, wouldn’t have been a great loss. But worse I could have killed someone else. 2) Stay sober and any afterparty celebrations will be appreciated by your partner and you’ll remember what happened. Apropos of that, I’m adopted and my birthday is in September. Do the math.
Saturday was flushable. Nine thirty became the new seven thirty. I’d made pancake batter and pulled out sausage for breakfast. Had to skip it and work with a brownie and a cup of tea. Got ready to do the shopping. By the time I got to the car it was hitting eleven forty five. Key in the ignition, nothing. Another five tries before calling the number the landlord has posted for tows, locked in keys and starts. Called and found out the roadside assistance didn’t have jumper cables in his truck. You might think they were necessary. Called the dealer, guess who he uses? Yep, Mr. No Jumper Cables. Tried another three garages nearby and the shortest wait was two hours. I was jammed. Called my last best garage of choice. I don’t call them first not because they’re inept or unreliable. On the contrary, they’re excellent. The problem is you pay for the enhanced service. The truck showed up forty five minutes later and left with sixty of my dollars. The car was running. Being male I really didn’t think the next step through. I could’ve gone to Sears or any one of a dozen places that carried batteries. My brain thought, logically, that to get a battery for my car, go to the dealer. Drove there and parked. motor running. Went in and was cofronted by Jessica. I was pissed. She took my information with a smile and somehow I felt calmer. She was in her twenties, slim, with hair pulled back in a ponytail wearing the requisite company shirt and slacks. By the time our exchange was done, I’d decided that seeing her for five minutes a week would make me eternally happy. No fantasies, just her smile. I waited while the work was being done watching a guy fiddle around with the remote control for seventy-two inch television. It took an hour. Jessica came back with the bill. Again if it weren’t eor her I would have felt violated in so many ways. The cashier was cheery, hell, she was getting my money. On the way out I stopped and thanked Jessica for making my experience pleasurable. There was a faint thought lurkining in the back of my brain. I should ask her out. What could she do? Turn me down? I’m a writer, Rejection is my middle name. I didn’t. Went grocery shopping with the side of my brain that kicks me when I chicken out on an opportunity was practicing field goals with my self esteem.
Again, practice sober and safe sex tonight. We don’t need surprises. Drive sober, jail sucks and the State Police take a gleeful joy in taking drunk asshats off the road.
See you on Wednesday.