I moved heaven and earth last week to scrape together enough money to pick up Chris’ car. I feel like I’m balancing a big column of china teacups on the tip of my pinky while riding a unicycle but if everything goes according to plan nothing will break. I’m on the lookout for Murphy and his damn law … we’ll see how it goes.The final day to pick up the car was Saturday and it was a special kind of hell. I had a detailed plan … as I always do … but it went the way of the Dodo almost from the get-go. It started with me driving Chris to work in Davis at 5:00 am and looping back home but then being too charged up to get back to sleep. I left home again at 9:00 needing to make just one stop prior to picking up Chris’ car. That one stop turned into seven, ultra-frustrating trips, laden with rejection, delays and encounters with multiple folks operating on minimum bandwidth:
Number of train delays = 2
Number of bridge delays = 1
Number of people encountered with double digit IQs = 5 (and that does not include the ones the state of California gave driver’s licenses to)
Number of times I yelled at Fred for driving crazy = 85,000
Temperature outside = 95
Temperature in the car = 107
Phone calls to banks to find an open branch = 4
Trips to open branches not actually open = 1
Number of times I drove through the 80/50/5/99 interchange loop = 9
Number of dollars left in checking account = 19
Handfuls of hair ripped out in frustration = 1
Finally arriving at the car dealership at 1:10, sweaty ball of money tightly clutched in my fist, I spoke to the service department clerk who flashed a manufactured smile at me and said “I can’t find your car, are you sure this is where you left it?”. Suffice it to say that after a somewhat pregnant pause I had a melt down of nearly gargantuan proportions. Through the fog of my frustration I vaguely remember contemplating just going ahead and climbing over the counter and choking the 18 year old twit … er clerk … to death … and thinking all the while no jury would convict me. She was rescued by the Service Department Manager who quickly found the paperwork, as well as the car, took my $1000 ball of money and did what any good manager would …. got me the hell out of his dealership as quickly as possible.
Getting Chris’ car out = mission accomplished.
Number of twits …er clerks … who I’m guessing will think twice before telling another customer she can’t find their car = 1.
By 1:48 I was standing in my living room in my underwear and talking on the phone and assuring my friend Diane that I was on my way to her bridal shower … which starts at 2:00 and is at least 35 miles away. Despite the day’s hell-like obstacles I made it down to Vacaville by 2:45, and while being late would normally make me crackers, I was happy to get there at all. The shower was good fun. There were a few tears and plenty of laughter and a good time was had by all at the Perfect Blend Coffee House. We had the whole place to ourselves until a guy on a bike showed up around 3:30. Just at the moment he was entering the building, Diane was also swinging a thong in circles above her head and being egged by a circle of rowdy women. Needless to say, the guy on the bike got back on the bike and we never saw him again.
Fast forward to Saturday night where Diane, Stu and I sat at my house, swapping stories and singing all the words to all the songs from all the musicals that we know while “doing our roots” (well, Di doesn’t have roots but she was a great cheerleader) and drinking invisible Kool-aid. The three of us finally cashed it in around 3a.m. Slow going on Sunday morning, a few chores and the weekend was a wrap.
Back at work today a little worse for wear with the focus on finance-juggling once again with the next bite being the 1st of the month … du du du duuuuuh.
As I drove Chris to work in the pre-dawn hours of Saturday
morning I saw a shooting star …
and wished on it.
