Went to a 9-year-olds birthday party. Yes, while I actively avoid going out to drinks (I'm working on it (but not really...)), I will absolutely jump for a chance to attend a child's party. It has all of my favorite elements: free pizza, karaoke machine (although I didn't utilize it), a bouncy castle (again, not utilized due to a revelation I had 3 years ago: bouncy castles are HARD y'all. I can take 30-90 seconds before I fall straight to sleep (and bouncy castles maintain the warmth and comfort for the kind of instant unconsciousness that suggests narcolepsy (presumably the downside is the abundance of tiny feet jumping on your face, but I'm pretty sure I could take it))). Most importantly, such parties have a plethora of the shortest, funnest, most scatterbrained tiny humans running around and asking you where they put the cake (because everyone over 5 feet is MOSTLY just a cake supplier to a 9-year-old).
ANYWAY,
The next day was mechanic day. I had to be there at 8am, which was lame because I had to wake up earlier than I do on a work day. Whatever whatever. I brought the car over and my mechanic (/lover?) told me to call back in the afternoon. So I have a minimum of 4 hours to kill.
Went to my old shopping center (the one I used to park in for 2 hours per night, talking on the phone to Kevin, when I lived with Davida) and immediately headed for Denny's. Got an OKAY breakfast burrito. I'm a harsh judge of breakfast burritos now that Corina and I have made it our mission to find the best breakfast burrito establishments. One of the many, highly productive goals our roommate-ship has wrought. One hour down.
Next, I get a pedicure at the same shopping center (all of this tale will be at the same shopping center). It was pretty good, although I hadn't shaved my legs because I didn't have that much foresight so... that can be awkward, but it was okay overall. Although I have to mention that for the most part the lady and I weren't really chatting and mostly I just vaguely watched what she was doing through sleepy eyes. But when she started the leg and foot massage she started making really intense eye contact, really gauging my face. I can really only describe it as feeling like I was on the receiving end of a blow job. And I won't lie-- I was being seduced a little bit. Although not enough to pay for extra time (happy ending?). Anyway, another hour down.
Then I decide to make some calls, but my phone has only 2 bars so I have to make them count. A short one to my mom (depressing and also confirming that I will NOT be returning home for Christmas), a slightly longer one to my brother (13-years-old and thus useless on the phone), and finally one to a friend from high school whom I haven't spoken to in 5 years (Steph).
3 hours down. And one battery nearly dead.
I call my mechanic, an HOUR after I technically could call him, and he told me that it would be ready around 3 or 4pm but he would call me. Naturally, I spend 10 minutes praying that it's ready at 3pm.
Then I get some soup. Get some chai latte. Read some Bridget Jones' Diary (I unfortunately left my Hunger Games companion book at work). No call at 3pm.
Listen to some Mitch Hedberg. Listen to my music, which was amazing because I realized that I haven't heard a song in good quality for a LONG time (because my car gives me.... more like a SHADOW of a song). Informed by this revelation, I listen to Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You." Then Whitney and Mariah's "When You Believe." Then a shit-ton of Mariah.
At 4pm I'm about to cry (it's been 8 hours!). I don't want to call and be annoying (and thus upping my bill (in my brain)) but I'm about to kill myself. I decide to walk back to the mechanics and hope he calls en route. When I get there (4:15pm), I see my car on the sidewalk. No one is working on it so they're either finished or... they haven't started (?!). So I go for the annoying and call. And my car is ready! But when I talk to my mechanic he tells me that he's given me a new muffler but since my car is old and from the east coast (weather damaged), the stuff around the muffler (?) is rusty and needs to be replaced. I have to go back next Saturday. NOOOOOO!!
It's okay. It's an exercise in patience. Although I asked him if my headlights and oil change went okay and he admitted that he forgot about the headlights. He did it in a hot second, so I don't care, but it does make me reconsider calling him "my mechanic (/lover?)."
I have to say, I told this tale twice, and to both recipients I mentioned that I was glad I told them my story because then I won't be tempted to write a blog about it. I feel like my longest blog entries often detail the most mundane days. Well so much for that...
Sunday was less eventful. I went to Kohl's which is QUITE a journey from my house, but I got some extras for my wedding ensemble and a new shirt, sweater and nightgown. I WANTED to get one of those fancy olive oil containers that you use to pour oil onto a plate and dip bread in (so... Bertucci's...) but alas, they had none. Probs best because I bet I can find one cheaper than whatever they would sell at Kohl's. I also perused the luggage section. I'm kind of scared to buy luggage because it's so expensive and I'm not POSITIVE of the features I'm going to need throughout my life. I'm not even sure of the ideal size-- I know what's ideal in my HEAD (small (but important-looking)), but not so much what I'm going to want to bring on my future business trips (so far, imaginary). So I'm going to put it off for now.
I DID have a bit of an episode later in the evening. Corina came home and we became less-than-sober, which is noteworthy because I started telling her about how I'm not going home for Christmas and then I just burst into tears. Corina is so lovely and one of the most empathetic people I know, so naturally she started crying with me. It was good, I guess, but I had such a time trying to even us out again. I tried a joke(ish) to recover, but that came off as pathetic, which I could see in her eyes. Then I just announced my difficulty in leveling us out again, which didn't really help either. Finally, I just prayed to be distracted enough to not worry it anymore, which worked, I think.
The important thing is, I seem to be pretty upset that I'm not going home. By Christmas it will have been 2 years. The silver (golden) lining is that I am already booked for housesitting at that time. Yes, that's right. I've already forgotten that I'm sick of housesitting. Or more accurately, I've become suddenly shocked that my checking account numbers are no longer doubling regularly. Plus it's the huskies that I love, which is truly a treat.
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