There have been bright spots, though. My friend Heidi, who is a complete and utter whack-o, and, thusly, someone I admire very much, said brightly that one of these days I’ll have an “aha!” moment and realize how it is that my ‘soul type’ is at the core of this, and all I have to do is visualize positive things rather than dwelling on the fact that I will, most probably, next develop a full-blown case of kuru-kuru even though I’m a vegetarian (oh, all right, I confess: I ate an elk-burger last year. And once I was sharing a pizza with pepperoni on it and I didn’t pick off every last scrap of meat, but I doubt that’s why I’m about to develop kuru-kuru. That has to do with morals, just like all outward manifestations of disease.), so I’m vigorously picturing the book advance sailing into my bank account, but it doesn’t seem to help. I keep getting it wrong and making it worse. Oh, yeah, the bright spots.
One is the guys in ties. For various reasons I took my poor, injured, suicided-upon pick up to the dealer to be fixed. They did a grand job, getting it done in a week, and even having guys stay late one night to make sure it was ready when I arrived, after conducting a complicated ballet of returning borrowed cars and whatnot (thanks, Julie! You’re another bright spot!), except that the one window latch wasn’t in yet. So when I went in to pick up the tin which wasn’t yet there, I went to pick up my chain saw chains (since I have no heat yet, I’d better start cutting firewood), but they weren’t done, since nobody told the sharpening guy that I would be in to pick them up that day, so I went to the library to return that movie which never played right, but it was closed and you can’t return DVDs in the slot, so I went over to the hardware store to get more of the stain I needed, but it was discontinued, and I ran out off small fonts again. On my defeated way out of town, I stopped in for the latch, which was in, but all the mechanics had already gone home. Well, three guys in ties stepped up, found the part, found some tools and installed that latch, while I stood there, nearly crying in equal shares of frustration and gratitude. Bright spot. I swear I’m baking them a pie. I even bought golden delicious apples just for pie-making.
And then there was the radio-guy, who I called Trevor, even though his name is Taylor. Perhaps he was channeling my friend Jim’s son, Taylor, whom I call Trevor, since the radio-guy-Trevor/Taylor was as sweet and helpful as the other one must be, being the son of Jim, but how would I know? The other one is a teenager, and a male one at that, so I’ve never had an actual conversation with him. But anyway, Trevor/Taylor called from the company who sold me the radio, and even though none of this was directly his company’s fault – just a little bit – he wound up saying he’d send me a whole new kit for free! And I could keep the old, perhaps-broken one! Bright spot. I can listen to the radio again. Cross your fingers. Oh, and Ben showed up – albeit at an inconvenient time – and came really, really close to committing to show up for work this Sunday. I didn’t tell him that I’d also finally gotten through to Jeff, who is planning to come on Sunday to do the siding, too. Bright spot! Perhaps I’ll be able to have that siding party after all. I still have Buffalo burgers in the freezer, should any of you care to show up…but everyone wear Kevlar pants, goggles, hard hats, steel-toed boots, leather gloves, respirators and bring your signed statements of assumption of liability. No exceptions. I don’t want any more calamities.