It would not be a good idea to cross me right now. Seriously. Don’t do it. I’m channeling Dorothy Parker and you know how dangerous that can be.
One of the ubiquitous sayings of the Great Parker was: “a good thing to appear on my tombstone would be: wherever I am, is usually against my better judgment”. And nothing could be truer.
Okay, so yesterday was set up to be the day from hell from the beginning. I had a dental appointment at 7 am, followed by a rush through the grocery store, followed by a drive to El Paso to make up for a cancelled eye appointment.
So far so good.
I don’t think the drive to El Paso is all that bad mind you, but I do worry about catching some communicable disease as I drift across the border from my beloved Land of Enchantment to the home of one George W. Bush, painter and failed president. (You heard he’s just soooo committed to his new art career right?)
Anyway, we got down there okay, although one does has to run the gauntlet so to speak of some of the worst drivers in all of kingdom come, which is where I feel headed as I try to avoid their bumper car mentality. I mean does anyone in Texas no anything other than “put ‘er to the floor, close your eyes and yell Yippie-Kio-Kia?”
So after nearly one hour plus the inevitable stop at the train tracks and the inevitable train with no end, we arrive, almost late, but not quite. The Contrarian is called within 15 minutes of arrival, which is as close to telling time as I would assume could be expected in the land of cows and over-sized steaks.
He emerges fifteen minutes later, “done”, meaning that they have discerned his eyeglass prescription in nothing short of laser speed. But there is a catch. There is always a catch.
The dude assigned the monumentally difficult job of turning the pages in a book offering you the latest in VA eyewear fashion (meaning the damn frames), while you dear patient look and point when you find a pair that don’t look too nerdy or Elton Johnish, is NOT IN TODAY. And *gasp* not another employee of the eye clinic is qualified to turn that page. I mean even a post-it note stuck between two pages and a best guess that these are the ones, was past their pay grade level.
This of course means that we must return on another day to pick out the damn frames. Good news? Oh, we don’t need an appointment–anything time between the hours of “this is a damn stupid way to handle things” and “you’re nearing the ninth gate of Dante’s hell” will do.
So after some shouting at each other, for no good reason but that we are both so gloriously pissed at the VA and “bureaucracy” in general, we cross back into the land of sanity, (the pavement actually improves at the state line), and we careen happily home, secure only in the knowledge that tomorrow is another day, and the Contrarian has a dental appointment at 10 am. My joy overflows.
So, now my swimming plans for Tuesday are off.
So, all my schedules are screwed up, and you KNOW I am a very scheduly-type person.
So I reschedule my day for today.
Now the wonder kids in Washington of the D.C. (standing for Dumb Cockroaches) have as you recall, changed up the Daylight Savings Time, which is no saving at all since you give back what was gained any the damn way. And if ever there was a thing not to f**k with God over, it would be time itself.
So after 9/11, the Dancing cephalopods in Congress wanted to “DO SOMETHING!”, so they started the DST even earlier and let it run longer, and nobody gained as I said a damn thing, and something about saving money, well that never happened either. So we have a dumb thing in the first place, made even dumber, and poor milk cows just weep in frustration as their udders have no clue what to do.
So instead of it being nicely light with the sun just beginning to send a glorious glow over the top of the mountains, it’s freakin’ pitch black. And I don’t like walking with a flashlight waiting for a rattler to show me his pearly whites in the beam.
So, I am forced to rearrange my schedule of walking too! Instead, I get up at the crack of dawn which here is now not dawn at all, but dark dark as I said, and begin cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms, which is a bit hard on the stomach at such an ungodly hour. After I have that done, it is light enough to walk the Diego, who is having a crisis of sorts finding that other people on the block get newspapers too every morning, and feeling duty bound to bring them all here, to sort out the mess.
To this deadly mix of mismanaged mayhem, comes the Contrarian, with the announcement:
I CANNOT FIND MY PHONE!
After a look through the car, and every pair of pants pockets, hoodie pockets, robes, and other items that have pockets, searching through the bed, the oven, the drawers in the every place that has drawers, even gazing hopefully down the gullet of said Diego, who has been known to take it for a walk, the only and I do mean ONLY answer, is that it is in the EYE clinic in EL PASO!!!!
And it’s there, waiting for us to go and pick it up.
Pray for me.
Pray for me a lot.
Existential Ennui 