Things have been coming together and splitting apart. I can't say which is the dominant thing. But I long for a normal life full of boredom and free time and mundanity.
First of all, I've been stepping in it a lot lately. I hope it's PMS. Today, for instance, I pulled into the Safeway parking lot. I despise Safeway. It's Safe, and it's the Way. I went there to buy groceries because I had nada in the 'fridge, aside from the leftover Hunan Chicken from a couple of nights ago, which I spent with someone cute.
But I'm taking a vow of healthiness (or so I thought), meaning I wanted something in the refrigeradora with some omega-threes, plus some nonfat, lo-cholesterol, whole-grainy stuff. And I didn't want to drive all the way across town to Trader Joe's, which I sort of love, because why pollute the air with the extra driving?, and anyway, I wanted fresh veggies.
So I pull into Safeway, the first item on my list of to-do's, and I'm accosted by this dude who wants money for food. Which is kind of irritating, especially as he's drinking a canned soda and eating something expensive from a plastic-and-foil bag. I said no, I didn't feel like treating him to dinner, and I slammed my car door shut. These kinds of situations leave me feeling a little guilty and distracted. Which explains why once again, for the second time in so many months, I locked my keys in my car.
Thank the lordy or whatever that my Mattyfriend talked me into getting a cell phone! I called Triple-A, then waited it out in the sun. Soon after, a tow-truck-thing pulled up, and I signaled the driver. After I thanked him for arriving so promptly, he said, "Lady, I have no idea what you're talking about." And I sighed & let him know that I was super-sorry, I thought he was the dude who was going to save me. He said that no, he wasn't, and then he stalked into the store, and there I was, leaning against my dirty car, and there went the perfectly lovely ass of my perfectly lovely jeans with the pretty lace embroidery on the pockets.
So then this guy who originally asked me for money? He pretty much commented on my every move as I checked my rear axel in case I'd been one of those clever people who sticks a magnetic holder there with a spare key inside (I couldn't remember if I had or hadn't, and lo! I hadn't). He offered me some of his pop. Dear god! It was grape!
The tow-truck driver came strutting back out of the store to eat his fried chicken in the parking lot, and he kind of watched me, shrewdly, as did a whole host of other stocky and married-looking men, but nobody approached me, because I'm sure I looked premenstrual and out for blood at this point. As I was.
Then Mr. Fried Chicken decides that he will unlock my car, for free!
At the end of it all, two hours behind schedule and fuming, I have half a salmon and lots of spinach in the 'fridge, plus my freezer is stocked. I've now finished the book I was supposed to have read for the book club I'm meeting on Tuesday. Things are good, I think. . . The universe may not be looking out for me, but maybe I'm supposed to look out for myself at this point and this is all a great big lesson. It'd be so nice, though, to have a moment or two to be something other than an adult.
I often think that I was not meant to endure the hardships that other adults suffer on a daily basis. Believe me, I know my outlook is incredibly childish. But I worry about the tiny details, not the big stuff. If you were to find yourself on The Titanic, know that I would be among those who'd claw my way past you and to the lifeboat, complaining the whole time. And if I failed to save myself, I'd jump off the side. Man, though, I sure admire you noble people out there! Perhaps this is why I've never decided to have children.
Matty says that I live in "the ghetto". I've never agreed with this, though today, in my present state of mind, I noticed a few things. Like, there were pigeons eating cheetos out on the sidewalk in front of my place. These weren't, mind you, a bunch of Cheetos deliberately scattered, but these haphazard orange bits, plus an abandoned bag. All this was happening in front of someone's white fence. On which the owner of the fence (I assume) had spraypainted "NO PARKING".
After all that, I leave you with a picture of some dancin', and some hot buns.