In case you haven't noticed, I have stopped blogging. Not necessarily rambling, just the blogging part. It became apparent to me that I no longer had anything to ramble about. Everything was a rant, a tirade, hysterics. I watch too much news. Read too many papers. Listen to too much 1010 WINS. I hate the world. No seriously, I hate the way we treat each other. I hate that things are so expensive. I hate the way.....see, this is why I stopped blogging. Today I went to the bank. There was a guy going in ahead of me. He let the door slam in my face. Thanks buddy! Once inside I went to an ATM next to a man that had to be one step away from making it onto the side of one of Willard Scott's jelly jars. He laid his finger aside one of his nostrils and blew. Yes, blew. A great big snot ball landed on the bank floor with a squishing thud. Ewwwwwwww. I finished my deposit and left side stepping HIS 'deposit'. I went next door to my nail salon. I had to cut my nails because I have started taking piano lessons and it just doesnt work with long nails.. (more on that later..) My nail girl who I adore is late for our 11am appointment so I sit and grab a People magazine. The people in People all have boobs and penises drawn on them. Assuming it must be the work of some unsupervised 10 year old and not feeling especially erotic at 11am, I put the magazine back and chose another. The woman seated to my right looks at me and says "why dont you make up your mind'? Excuse me??? She sucked her teeth and went on fighting with whomever she was on the phone with. ( Hurry Linh, before there is a fight.) My hands look ridiculously short and stubby without long nails but for the sake of my budding music career I will have to deal. It's the small sacrifices.
I had to buy gift boxes because for some reason the stores I shop in no longer believe in 'giving' you anything for free. Charge me an extra friggin quarter, I wont notice, and give me a box....you in turn will have my grateful patronage every holiday after that. My gift boxes, in 3 sizes, cost me more then two of the gifts I bought....which isnt saying much for those gift recipients. I bought bows which apparently I never affix to the presents since when I got home I realized I had 3 unopened bags. This year your're all getting bows....maybe two. The next stop was the post office. At the risk of being towed or at the very least having a sticker plastered on my windshield, I pulled into a spot in the McDonalds next door. I did my best to hide the fact that I was headed toward the post office instead of the Golden Arches. I did all but walk backwards carrying a two foot box I was shipping to my neice in Delaware. The box contained Christmas gifts. The line, always twelve deep in this always understaffed postal facility was no surprise. Nor was the slug like speed of the tellers. After each transaction the little teller light would ignite and a 'ding' indicated there was a open teller. After standing in line for better than 40 minutes you would think that they would fly to the light like a moth. But no...instead they strolled to the windows and only then began to remove the mail from their bags or purses or canvas sacks. Let's not have them ready to hand the teller, that might shave off 15 minutes of wait time! I inched along dragging my box and alternately rehearsed my excuse for the tow truck driver (who was probably impounding my car) and considering what would take the non-removable sticker glue off my windshield. Finally, a light....a 'ding'....it was my turn. I lifted the box into the safety cage that they designed presumably to protect the tellers from crazed patrons (good luck with that) and listened to about a minute recitation of questions. Anything flamable, breakable, liquid, fragile, etc., etc., etc. Did I want it sent first class, priority, 2nd day, media mail, overnight, ground? Certified, return receipt, delivery confirmation, proof of mailing? I chose media mail (cheaper) and delivery confirmation (so I don't have to call and ask if my package made it there before Santa). The teller felt obligated to tell me in no uncertain terms that they have the right open and inspect the box, and if it is found to not have strictly media items within, the recipient will be asked to pay the difference in premium thereby embarrasing the sender. I stood my ground even though I knew this troll was going to go straight to the package on his break and insist it be opened. Well guess what buddy, there are books and cd's in there. (and playdoh) (and a sock monkey) I will call my neice tomorrow and apologize in advance. It's the small sacrifices.
The next stop was my piano lesson. I paid for 4 weeks up front for fear I would stink and quit. I stink, but haven't quit....yet. My lessson is sandwiched between a 12 year old vocal prodigy and a 13 year old pianist that could put Liberace to shame. And through it all my instuctor tells me how good I am getting which makes it worth the $70 an hour he gets just to listen to me play When The Saints Go Marching In and Ode to Joy. There is just so much you can teach an old dog....two hands doing two different things doesn't compute for me.... G F E D C....C D E F G....and we didnt even get to the A and B yet. But playing the piano is on my bucket list....so practice, practice, practice. It's the small sacrifices.
I came home to find someone parked in my parking spot. Yeah, I know I dont really own that spot, but it is in fronf of my house nestled between my driveway and a fire hydrant. If you park far enough away from the hydrant to be legal then you are in my driveway...which happens often. I recognize the car and know that it wont be long so I park down the block a bit. 'You leaving the car there,' a neighbors tenant asks. (key word being tenant) Yes, why? 'Thats my spot,' he informs me. I thought of going into the whole...its no ones spot story....but since I know how it feels to be shut out of 'your spot' I pulled out and into my driveway where I should have parked in the first place. It's the small sacrifices.
I'm baaaack!
