So, on my way in to the parking lot to order a birthday cake at the grocery store, a woman made me slam on my brakes by pulling out in front of me. Then, she proceeded to give me the finger. I honked. She gave me the double finger. I honked some more. She shook the double fingers.
Very mature, don't you think?
Oh, it gets better. Then, I decided the cake could wait and I followed her for five or six blocks. She didn't like that. Guess what? More fingers, but never more than one on each fist at a time. Then, she got on the phone. I got a little nervous.
Is it illegal to follow an arrogant driver for five or six blocks?
When I approached a sign that said 'One lane only - expect delays,' I peeled off and went back to my regularly scheduled programming.
I realized how stupid I'd been as I calmed down a bit. There are arrogant drivers everywhere. It makes no sense to engage with them. Some of them are downright dangerous. This one was.
Then, dropped off Nick at karate and went to the library. Guess what?
There was a guy in a pink sweater and brown corduroy pants dancing, kicking, and cursing at the entrance to the library. I got back into my car and sat there for a bit.
'Well, crap,' I thought. 'Do I have a right to hang out at the library or not?'
So, I went and sat my butt down right at the entrance and read my book. I'm reading 'FBI Girl' by Maura Conlon-McIvor. I like this book. It reminds me of Bill Bryson's 'Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid.'
It didn't take long for the pink sweater dancer to curse his way past me again. I held my ground, though I made eye contact with a couple of mothers scurrying past dragging their children a little faster than their tiny feet could go. Pink sweater dancer was cursing God, insisting to the air to his left that he had every right to tell God to 'fuck off.' He slipped into the library.
Curious and angry, I gathered my things, got up, and went inside. I was not in the mood to give up ground today. The library should feel like a safe place to go, as should the streets, so I patrolled, my phone in my hand, ready to dial for help if pink sweater dancer harassed anyone.
Then, I got distracted by the rows and rows of books. I looked for 'A Song for Julia,' a book a friend had just finished. No dice. I looked for a new audio book and found 'Letting Go' by Philip Roth, an author another friend is always pushing. I'm half through 'A Canticle for Leibowitz' by Walter M. Miller Jr. and I don't want to get stuck without anything to listen to as I do dishes. I ambled along, looking at titles that were recommended. I touched other books, tried to keep myself from checking out yet another title since I was in the middle of 'FBI Girl,' at the beginning, really. Then, I headed to the checkout computers.
Two police officers were gently drawing pink sweater dancer out the door. My irritation rose again and after I checked out Philip Roth, I went over to the Information Desk.
"Do you happen to know of a forum to discuss the safety of people going in an out of the library here? I've seen the police here five or six times in the last ten times I've come. I'm getting uncomfortable with it and I'd like to know what's being done to address the problem."
The librarians were helpful. They listened to me, made some suggestions, and gave me an address at the library where I could send my concerns. I'll probably write that letter. I don't want to give up coming to this library, but I'm getting a real sense that it's going to belong to the crazies soon, or maybe it already does. It pisses me off.
About then, Mike texted me and said he was ordering our usual from the pizza joint and could I pick it up. I could, I texted back.
At the pizza place, when I signed for a single pizza, I was confused. I told the guy I wasn't sure what 'our usual' was since my son had been asking for different stuff lately. He handed me a single pizza box and asked me to sign the slip. The bill came to $26!
"That's a lot for just one pizza," I told the cashier. He checked the bill and nodded his head. He asked my first name and I told him. He nodded and showed another cashier how my order had been confused with another one.
A tall blond woman came in and waited patiently while the two cashiers tried to work out my problem. The first cashier asked for my last name and I told him. He showed me the pizza. It had onion on it.
"My husband would never have ordered onion. He can't eat onion," I said. He looked at the computer again.
"Can you tell me your name again?" he said.
"That's my order," the polite woman said, leaning forward just a bit and looking at the onion on the pizza.
The second cashier looked at the polite blond woman and smiled as if to ask her to wait her turn. I told the first cashier my name.
"That's my name too!" the polite blond woman said.
"Well, it's nice to meet you," I said and held out my hand. She shook it and we all laughed.
When Nick got done with karate and we got home safely with our pizzas, I was relieved somehow.
"Did you know it was a blue moon tonight?" Mike asked as we walked up the stairs.
"Yeah," I said, "and in another universe, I have a dented car, the wrong pizza for the right name and I danced with the pink sweater guy at the library."
"What?" Mike said.
I swear, Mike will never understand me.
Thank you for listening, jules
Very mature, don't you think?
Oh, it gets better. Then, I decided the cake could wait and I followed her for five or six blocks. She didn't like that. Guess what? More fingers, but never more than one on each fist at a time. Then, she got on the phone. I got a little nervous.
Is it illegal to follow an arrogant driver for five or six blocks?
When I approached a sign that said 'One lane only - expect delays,' I peeled off and went back to my regularly scheduled programming.
I realized how stupid I'd been as I calmed down a bit. There are arrogant drivers everywhere. It makes no sense to engage with them. Some of them are downright dangerous. This one was.
Then, dropped off Nick at karate and went to the library. Guess what?
There was a guy in a pink sweater and brown corduroy pants dancing, kicking, and cursing at the entrance to the library. I got back into my car and sat there for a bit.
'Well, crap,' I thought. 'Do I have a right to hang out at the library or not?'
So, I went and sat my butt down right at the entrance and read my book. I'm reading 'FBI Girl' by Maura Conlon-McIvor. I like this book. It reminds me of Bill Bryson's 'Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid.'
It didn't take long for the pink sweater dancer to curse his way past me again. I held my ground, though I made eye contact with a couple of mothers scurrying past dragging their children a little faster than their tiny feet could go. Pink sweater dancer was cursing God, insisting to the air to his left that he had every right to tell God to 'fuck off.' He slipped into the library.
Curious and angry, I gathered my things, got up, and went inside. I was not in the mood to give up ground today. The library should feel like a safe place to go, as should the streets, so I patrolled, my phone in my hand, ready to dial for help if pink sweater dancer harassed anyone.
Then, I got distracted by the rows and rows of books. I looked for 'A Song for Julia,' a book a friend had just finished. No dice. I looked for a new audio book and found 'Letting Go' by Philip Roth, an author another friend is always pushing. I'm half through 'A Canticle for Leibowitz' by Walter M. Miller Jr. and I don't want to get stuck without anything to listen to as I do dishes. I ambled along, looking at titles that were recommended. I touched other books, tried to keep myself from checking out yet another title since I was in the middle of 'FBI Girl,' at the beginning, really. Then, I headed to the checkout computers.
Two police officers were gently drawing pink sweater dancer out the door. My irritation rose again and after I checked out Philip Roth, I went over to the Information Desk.
"Do you happen to know of a forum to discuss the safety of people going in an out of the library here? I've seen the police here five or six times in the last ten times I've come. I'm getting uncomfortable with it and I'd like to know what's being done to address the problem."
The librarians were helpful. They listened to me, made some suggestions, and gave me an address at the library where I could send my concerns. I'll probably write that letter. I don't want to give up coming to this library, but I'm getting a real sense that it's going to belong to the crazies soon, or maybe it already does. It pisses me off.
About then, Mike texted me and said he was ordering our usual from the pizza joint and could I pick it up. I could, I texted back.
At the pizza place, when I signed for a single pizza, I was confused. I told the guy I wasn't sure what 'our usual' was since my son had been asking for different stuff lately. He handed me a single pizza box and asked me to sign the slip. The bill came to $26!
"That's a lot for just one pizza," I told the cashier. He checked the bill and nodded his head. He asked my first name and I told him. He nodded and showed another cashier how my order had been confused with another one.
A tall blond woman came in and waited patiently while the two cashiers tried to work out my problem. The first cashier asked for my last name and I told him. He showed me the pizza. It had onion on it.
"My husband would never have ordered onion. He can't eat onion," I said. He looked at the computer again.
"Can you tell me your name again?" he said.
"That's my order," the polite woman said, leaning forward just a bit and looking at the onion on the pizza.
The second cashier looked at the polite blond woman and smiled as if to ask her to wait her turn. I told the first cashier my name.
"That's my name too!" the polite blond woman said.
"Well, it's nice to meet you," I said and held out my hand. She shook it and we all laughed.
When Nick got done with karate and we got home safely with our pizzas, I was relieved somehow.
"Did you know it was a blue moon tonight?" Mike asked as we walked up the stairs.
"Yeah," I said, "and in another universe, I have a dented car, the wrong pizza for the right name and I danced with the pink sweater guy at the library."
"What?" Mike said.
I swear, Mike will never understand me.
Thank you for listening, jules
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