It was one of those days from the minute my feet hit the floor this morning. It’s funny how things only get worse as a day like this progresses. For instance:The coffee I needed so badly couldn’t be made until the dishwasher was emptied before I could wash the sink of dirty dishes that had been left to me. “Good Morning!”
But the irritation of that lessened as I tended to political faux pas and work requests that I didn’t feel up to dealing with...
But even that didn’t seem so bad considering that I’ve been in pain and haven’t felt good for two days.
But of course that was nothing when I discovered that the nice dinner I’d been looking forward to in Tulsa with Nettl and Lauren was going to be spent with Nettl’s father and step-mother. Don’t get me wrong, they’re nice people. Excellent people, and so polite. And I just happen to be the antichrist.
Then I got a mild scolding for having an attitude. Which I did have, I confess. I took my last Tylenol 3 for the pain and got over myself. Thanks to that little pill, the car ride wasn’t too painful.
Actually, dinner was really a good time and the niceties shown to me felt genuine, not merely polite. I felt accepted rather than tolerated like a bad cold that will hopefully go away soon.
But everything that happened throughout the day was small, irritating crapola when the car broke down just out of Sand Springs at 9:00 at night. That’s about 50 miles away. Nettl called her dad, who graciously drove out to get us and then drove us all the way home. I felt like a loser. Like, if I was going to debauch his daughter I could at least be butch and know how to fix my frickin' car.
Leaving the car out there on the turnpike was emotionally hard for me. It sounds silly, but because it was all my mom had to leave me when she died, it felt like I was leaving her out on the side of a dark road to be crashed into or vandalized. I said something to that effect, but the others thought I was joking. I let it slide.
Now we have to figure out how we’re going to get back to the car and bring it home. It’s the only car we have. Renting a car to get us out there is no big deal, but the towing charges are going to be horrendous, not to mention the garage bill. This all has to be figured out in the morning. And it also means two more painful car rides. With no more Tylenol 3.
The dishes in the sink seem almost like a joy to me now.
