Friday the 13th blah blah blah

Watch it flow like water...

I got paid today. Here's how it went:

$88 for a pair of pants like the 'cool spf' shirt, with a ludicrous amount spent to get them to me here today, only to find out the bastards lied on their sizing chart. I'm not fudging. I measured. And they're too small but only by the scootch of an inch that makes them uncomfortable.

$38 on fruit and veg. Seriously. I love summer fruit and wanted to steal boy instructor's raspberries last week. As I was bringing the raspberries into the house, I realized that I am once again a mother, or at least godmother to a new brood of sparrows. I stumbled, the raspberry container fell from my arms, and half of them landed where no five-second rule could apply. The others remained in the container. Grr.

$57 on gasoline.

$32 on stuff for my skin. Neutrogena's Dry Sunscreen really does dry. And then some stuff for my rosacea.

$2.09 for a well-deserved ice cream cone.

But wait, there's more. I have to pay bills tonight.

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Lists

I crack myself up. I'm going to be gone all day tomorrow and will have about two hours to drive each way. Knowing I'm going to be gone and wanting to be so well prepared, I wrote a list. It involves things like washing the car, which I can tell you right now will not happen.

I think there's something in there, too, about negotiating a no-nukes treaty with North Korea.

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Unpacking the car

While I was trying to hoist into the house all the crap that's been accumulating in my car for at least three weeks, I lifted out the cat carrier. Oh wait, I thought, I need that to go pick up Gracie. And before I could put it back in the car, thought, no, I don't.

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Waiting for the Peapod Guy

I know my house is a horrible mess. I wish I could get myself more psyched up about cleaning it up. (See List, above.) Instead, the house feels hot, I am annoyed about the Coolibar pants, and I am afraid to look at my online bank account. (See 'paying bills', above.)

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Stood Up, Yet Again

This time by Dr. Lavender. I showed up ten minutes before my appointment and his secretary came out. "Who are you here to see?" she asked.

"Dr. Lavender."

"Oh. I don't think he's back until the 16th."

From the bowels of my handbag, I retrieved a card with Dr. L's writing on it, assigning us this appointed date. June 13, 2 pm. Becs, yes. Dr L., no.

I went back to work, feeling a little let down. I thought I had a number of good things to tell him this week, but have to just choke on it until the next time I see him.

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Bloody Air France

My CD player in my car has conked out. #*%&*# for the second time and it's only a 2007 model. Instead of listening to CDs, I have to listen to the radio and I heard an Air France commercial.

The announcer cooed that everybody gets a glass of champagne. That flights leave from Newark Airport seven times a day, bound for Paris. Paris! Paris! And then from there, she cooed again, destinations far and wide.

And I thought, now how's this for a fantasy? Tomorrow instead of driving to West Podunk, I get in my car - no, I don't get in my car. I call a taxi to take me to the train station and from there, to the airport and from there to Paris and from there I can go any bloody place I want.

I imagined myself walking on dusty roads in Greece, floating placidly in a lagoon, of going to the real-life Beaumont-sur-Mer or maybe Portofino. I don't know what the hell is in Portofino, but I want to find out.

And what if I just kept on walking? Or got on another train? What if I ended up in Rajasthan? What if I kept going and found myself on the gloriously deserted beaches of eastern India? Buying fresh-roasted spicy peanuts, renting a house directly on the beach and for a few rupees a day, have a cook and houseboy to attend me? I would stay there until the rains came and then I would go to Japan. I have always wanted to see the gardens of Kyoto in the autumn.

And in my mind, I kept traveling. There was no Fireman Fred to placate. I have a new thorn in my side, Vijay The QA King, who is expert at piling on useless work after useless work. There would be no Vijay to bedevil me. No cats. No house. No worrying about Ma Maisonette. Just clear, gem-like green water, olive trees, tiny houses clinging to the edges of cliffs, and the joy of being, for all practical purposes, deaf and mute.

With no demands on me. No negotiating with the garbage pickup company, no haggling over the latest misunderstanding between my health insurance company and my doctor, no dragging in thirty pound bags of kibble and forty pound tubs of cat litter.

Maybe I can get a little bit of that tomorrow, although I'm betting gem-like water is not going to happen.