Driver's Dread: Part 2

So I woke up on Tuesday, bummed out that I couldn't sleep in on my pre-arranged half-day, but so anxious to get this car stuff taken care of I probably wouldn't have slept much more anyway.

I got in my car, said a small silent prayer to allow me to get to the inspection station without being stopped, and went on my way. The inspection station is less than 4 miles away, about a 6 minute drive, yet they were some of the tensest I've ever experienced. As I was driving I passed two cop cars, and I could feel myself beginning to panic all over again. I kept muttering to myself, "They're gonna come get me...they're gonna come get me...". As if it couldn't get worse my gas light went off. Fearing that they would need to run my car to do the inspection I knew I had to stop and get gas.

At the station, I slid my credit card into the machine only to be told to "see attendant". I run inside and find myself BEHIND a state trooper in the line. I pay for my fuel, dash back to my car, fill up, and head towards the station. I made a stupid wrong turn, which caused me to turn around and face ANOTHER cop car that passed by. Finally, I make it to the station.

I hand over my keys to the mechanic. Now, I've been coming to this same mechanic for almost a year, and usually he's pretty good about cutting me a deal or telling me the truth about my car. But lately, it seems I've annoyed him OR he's just been in a bad mood. As I flip through a Better Homes & Garden, my stomach lurches every time I hear him come in from the body shop. Because he usually checks things in my car whenever I get an oil change, I'm not suspecting he's going to come back and tell me there's a major problem, but you never know.

I was actually pretty engrossed in some article about ways to make guests feel welcome, when I hear, "Kris, your car needs work. Alot of it." My heart sinks down to my feet and I stand and mosey over. He begins checking off a laundry list of problems, from the most worrisome (gash in the tire, brakes and alignment) to the least important (my back seat belt doesn't clasp, my driver-side window has a hard time going back up). With every item I see dollar signs. I finally ask what the cost would run to fix everything, and with a final long glance at my report he says, "Probably $1500-1600."

An atom bomb goes off in my brain. Where the hell am I going to get that kind of money? Is it even worth it when my car is over a decade old? I'm banned from my car and now have no chance in hell to get back to using it. I make two calls I dreaded: 1.) the school I'm supposed to be attending and explain (through a cracking voice and wet eyes) that I may need to pull my tuition money to pay for the repairs and 2.) my parents. After discussing things, I go back inside and ask the guy if he could at least replace my brake light, just so I'm not a total target for police.

"Can't do that till we know if its the bulb or something more serious," he says coolly.

"Well, how do I find that out?" I ask.

"By going inside."

"Huuum...," I say, dissatisfied at his response. I then decide to simply try my last shred of luck and get the car home. I hand him my $100 to pay for the inspection, only to hear him say,"Sorry, dear, can't break this."

"Oh man, are you serious?" I ask truly incredulous. How does a business that handles jobs ranging in the hundreds of dollars range NOT have change for a $100? I hand over my credit card, which is then declined (though I wasn't surprised since I've been leaning on it alot these past few weeks). He then tells me that I need to run across the road to the bank and get change.

So in my heels I wait for traffic to slow down and make a mad dash across a two-lane highway. I get the change and run back. I get my keys and drive home in tears, hopeless as to what to do, and still petrified I'm about to be stopped.

I walk through the door of the house to wait for my coworker/fremp who has kindly accepted to pick me up to take me to work, and see the dog has gotten into the garbage and taken a dump by the door. I clean everything up, go to work, get a plan in order for today and hope for a better outcome. Happily, I can say today, with a (temporary) registration in my hands and fresh new Maryland plates, I am able to breathe a little easier. And with that, I'll leave you till tomorrow....

Driver's Dread: Part 1

Although I was given a great tip for a topic today by a friend and reader (thanks Ran!), the past 48 hours have been so fraught with tension and misery that I thought I ought to do the more therapeutic (and entertaining) thing by relaying it all to you. But due to the fact that I have to get to bed soon in order to get up early (and because the dog's ass gas is causing me to feel faint and nauseous), I'll try my best to keep it brief.

First off, has this ever happened to you- You are going about your day as usual, thinking about a whole variety of things: what to make for dinner, when a certain bill is due, if I can afford to go back to school, or more appropriate for this time of year, what needs to be done for the holidays...These are some of the random thoughts that I had been playing with and bouncing around in my head, concerning myself with an assortment of things, and therefore never seeing the curve ball that was about to bean me right in the head...

I was driving home from work on Monday, pondering these kinds of thoughts, when I noticed a cop a few cars back in my lane. I had taken brief notice, muttering to myself about how much I hate when I have a cop behind me because I immediately panic and think I did something wrong. Normally this feeling passes as quickly as the cop does, going into another lane or turning away from me. Unfortunately, this was not the case this day.

He gets close behind me and it is then that the horrible realization dawns on me that he does not simply share my route, but that he is following me. And with that, the lights go off. I break into a cold sweat and my palms begin to quiver. Thankfully I have broken out of that phase where I would just immediately break down into tears. Instead the terror just resides in my throat and shaking hands. He walks over with his sunglasses on, and asks if I know why he pulled me over. I squeak out a "no", and he then tells me my brake light is out.

"oh...oh...ok," I say. He then waits as I fumble in the glove box searching for my registration and suddenly realize I do not hold a current and valid one. I simply hand over my license and he asks when I moved down here from New Jersey.

"I...uhm..I've, uh, been living here, um, at this address, for um, a few months...."

"Is this your current address?" he says, indicating my driver's license.

"No, I um, just moved...."

"What?" he asks.

"No, I just moved here back in July." He tells me to hold on and goes back to his car. I wait for what feels like an eternity, getting bitterly cold as snow begins to drift down, but I dare not to touch anything or do anything. He comes back finally and hands me a piece of paper

"I'm going to be nice and let you off with a warning for the brake light," he says, and then pauses. And just as it had had before, when I thought fortune really was smiling upon me, I have my face slammed down into the mud.

"But if I see you in this car driving, without proper Maryland registration and plates, I'll give you all the tickets you should be getting and have your car towed." I muttered out a thank you, and went on my way home, thinking about what he said. Banned from using my own car? My mind jumped right into all the questions: how would I get to work? What did it take to get transferred from New Jersey registration to Maryland, and could I even afford it? When would I get a chance to do all this without being screwed out of pay for work?

When Joe got home he set to work on trying to calm my fears as I looked up the requirements on the motor vehicle association website, and it didn't seem all that complicated or expensive. There was just one glaring issue: the state inspection. I would need to drive my car to get it inspected. What if I got pulled over again, and by the same cop? Worse, what if I got there and found out my car didn't meet the requirements? Worst of all, what if I couldn't afford to get everything fixed?

These were the new thoughts that plagued my brain all the rest of the evening, during dinner, during X-Files, in the shower, and as I tried to go to sleep. What was going to happen in the morning...I didn't really want to find out. But if you are interested you will, tomorrow...g'nite all!

Nineties Nostalgia

s

---from Georgia

About a week or so ago I came downstairs and noticed Joe was watching "The State" on Netflix, and laughing profusely. I had heard of this show before but I never paid much attention to it until Joe began telling me how fantastic it was. So I sat down next to him on our sofa and watched. Much to my surprise and delight, it was as funny as he described it. And it got me thinking of another show I could allow myself to watch: Beavis and Butthead.

I can hear you intellectuals groan and see you roll your eyes. No, it may not be the smartest show that ever existed, but it will always sort of hold a special place in my heart. Allow me to explain...

Whenever my parents used to have their friends over for parties, my sister and I would sneak upstairs to watch Mtv, the "forbidden" channel. If it wasn't the overtly sexual music videos that turned my mother off enough to ban us from watching Mtv, the nightime cartoons, known as "Mtv Oddities", offered the final blow. But being kids and curious we figured that on those Saturday nights we stood the best chance of tuning in.

I can recall turning off the lights and sitting on the floor of our shared room, getting comfortable while waiting to be sure our parents were distracted enough, and then flipping on in time to chatch Beavis and Butthead. We then proceeded to laugh our asses off while trying to not be too loud so as to tip of our unwary parents. It was one of the earliest times I can recall laughing so hard I couldn't breathe and my sides actually hurt. It was also one of the first shows my sister and I bonded over.

So as I scanned Netflix's selections I was pleased to see that they carried three separate collections of Beavis and Butthead cartoons. I settled in on my couch and proceeded to once agin, laugh my ass off. Maybe not as totally hard as I used to, but I still got up trying to catch my breath.

It's not just what these shows were about, it was of what they reminded us, not to get all Jerry Springer: Final Thought on you. They're like little gems of nostalgia that bring up memories of who we were back then, who we watched them with, and why we tuned in. Or if not, at least they can still make us laugh hard. Uhh uhhh, hard.

Cold Feet...and Hands

Boy, do I feel in a mood. I really shouldn't be: I have a nice little place to live, a semi-well-behaved dog, a good paying job, dear friends, and a great guy.

The thing is- I always get depressed more easily in the cold months. Shocker, I know everyone kinda does. But I have always categorized myself as a summer baby and in the winter I tend to emotionally and physically go into hibernation.

I also tend to get more annoyed, and this year is no exception. Every little thing tends to piss me off or frustrate me: I don't know what to do with my life, I never have enough money, I hope people like me, etc. Of these things I like to think I have little control so instead I focus on the single most-annoying/frustrating thing about this time of year- keeping my hands and feet warm.

There is nothing as aggravating as trying to keep your appendages warm, and for me, it's a constant battle. In fact, when I used to watch television shows or movies and people go running around outside with no shoes on or gloves, I used to think, "I don't care how happy and playful they are, that could never happen. My hands hurt just LOOKING at this." Sometimes my mother would look at my hands and say, "Your fingernails are blue!" My corpse hands, I'd call them.

And this is my main argument against people who LIKE the cold: when you have a chill that reaches down to your bones, there isn't a shower or mug of cocoa that can relieve you. At work, there is no exception.

My office is pretty much cold all year long, which sucks for me, because I can get cold with a hair dryer blowing down my neck in. So, over the past few months I've found methods to deal with it...

1.) Legs or feet under: I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this before, but I've had to tuck my hands under my legs so many times, I swear I'm about to get a backwards Levi's logo embedded into them. When I can barely type it's a pretty quick problem solver, except that the effect wears of quickly and I'm left with cold legs and stiff fingers.

2.) Sneaking for the sink: I will spend the extra minute or two washing out a coffee mug or being extra sanitary scrubbing my hands if it means longer time to scald my hands in the hot water. The problem here is that a.) the sinks in the bathroom rarely have the necessary heat to blast through my frigid hands and b.) usually someone is waiting for the sink in the kitchen so I have to cut my thaw short.

3.) Hot coffee: I am starting to think the main reason I began drinking coffee consistently was due to the wonderful feeling of heat between my hands. Also nice: the feeling of feeling returning to my digits. The problem: it's usually too hot to handle right away anyway so you have to wait before you can comfortably grip the thing and when it does cool down enough it's a race against time before it turns to sludge. Bad also: you can only warm one side at a time. Drag.

If anyone out there has any other tips to beat the cold at work, send em as comments here or on facebook. Gonna hit the bed for now, see yall tomorrow.

3-Day

Monday again, already. Can't believe that we are looking Christmas smack dab in the face, and I haven't set foot in one store yet or clicked one mouse for a shipment of something. I know it shouldn't be surprising, seeing as how I live my life not IN the moment, but in the LAST moment. I probably would've started it this weekend, if only...

Let me say that I had a feeling Friday was going to be a bad day right from the beginning. See, with my job, we are able to get holiday pay (as in payment for federal holidays that close our business), so long as we meet a certain amount of hours leading up to it. Back on Labor Day, when I was all set to receive the rest of my money I looked in my bank account and saw it had not been directly deposited. When I called and asked about it, all I was given was a "Sorry, but you didn't reach enough hours." I was pissed and so I vowed I wouldn't get screwed like that again. And with a reassurance that I would be eligible for Thanksgiving I went on working.

So when Thanksgiving came and went I once again looked in my bank account to verify the second payment was deposited, and again, it was nowhere to be found. Again I called my "boss" and asked about it, holding out some hope that it was a misunderstanding and that it would be there soon.

"Oh yeah, you should be getting it, hang on." A few moments passed before he came back.

"Umm, hey can you hold on one more second? I just need to check something," he said, and slowly, my precious hope began to build. A moment longer and then he came back on the line.

"Ooooh, I'm sorry. Yeah you were still a few hours shy....sorry," I was livid, but I merely sighed with disappointment and hung up the phone.

Back at my desk I was working and sulking (mostly sulking) when I realized I had made an error...two, actually,..on the project I was doing. I suddenly began to panic, fearing the wrath of a certain coworker, who had strictly directed us NOT to do this specific thing. And I had gone and done it twice.

I looked up at the ceiling, as if waiting for either a meteor to come crashing through my skull or some sort of answer from God as to why I was being punished for such a lousy day. As I kept putting off telling my coworker what I had done I began truly wondering what the third bad thing would be; I'm a big believer in the power of 3.

My coworker eventually found me and I just sort of blurted out what I had done, apologizing profusely. Thankfully, he was nonplussed, and reassured me it was not really a big deal, and that it was easily fixable. As he walked away I breathed such a sigh of relief.

Also, I am happy to say, that the third evil thing never came. Though who knows...it may just be waiting till next Friday...

Insectuous

Had kind of a weird moment this morning. I was eating my bowl of cereal in the living room and Georgia was sitting beside me, staring off into space (she was, I wasn't...or maybe I was..who knows).

Anyway, when I finally centered on what she was looking at I realized it was a spider that had dropped down from the ceiling and clinging to a strand of web. I probably would never have noticed it if Georgia hadn't. The strand was so small it looked like the thing was truly hovering in midair.

Still, I leaped so fast off the couch you'd think my pants had caught fire. Georgia just kept gingerly trying to stand on her hind legs to snatch it up so I quickly took one more bite of my cereal and then smacked it with a shoe (the spider, not my cereal. I am a shameful English degree-holder).

Now that I recall, that was the second odd bug-type thing that happened recently. The first occurred yesterday, I think, but this week has been flying by so who knows. One of the fremps gave the other and me a small potted plant to put on our desks, an incredibly sweet gesture. A little while later one of our coworkers stopped by desk.

"So we'll probably have a meeting for that in a day or two....hmm...looks like you have a little friend," he said.

I wasn't sure what he was talking about until my head spun around and noticed one of those damn Japanese stink beetles climbing ostensibly from my little potted plant. Again, I overreacted and immediately pushed my chair away. We all began laughing because it did look as if it was a prank, but the fremp assured me it wasn't and apologized. After that we all quieted down, but I was still left to do something about the beetle. I explained how I was worried about the odor it would emit if I tried to kill it. My fremp Les explained how it really wasn't all that bad, unless you had your nose right up it, and encouraged me to just squash it.

Now, I don't know why, but I have a hard time even taking a tissue to squish a bug- its probably the wimpiest thing about me. I always figure somehow it will escape and suddenly crawl up my arm. It's also difficult because, unlike flies or mosquitoes, this thing is big enough to almost have a personality. I'm not saying I expect it to suddenly throw on a top hat and tap dance, but I'm sure it doesn't WANT to die. I was ready to just leave it alone, but I felt I should try to do my part in eradicating these things from our office.

So, I took a deep breath, plucked a tissue free, and gently place it on top of the beetle. I then knew I wouldn't have the guts to kill it so instead I tried to flick it away. Three attempts and three smacked fingers later, I finally decided to simply let it live. I justified it to myself by thinking I just gave it a pardon and that maybe I'd get some good karma out of it.

Still, things usually happen in threes...maybe I better check the sheets before bed tonight...

Halfway Home

I'm really starting to miss television, isn't that pathetic? And I'm only halfway there...but it's not even the shows I miss. I mean, how can I miss such stellar shows like "The Jersey Shore" or "Billy the Exterminator." And it is nice to not have the constant bombardment of ads. Think abut it..for about 22 minutes of show you see 8 minutes of commercials, and that really starts to add up.

I can already hear certain members of my family scoffing and calling me a hypocrite or self righteous. I was hoping to be clapped on the back like a person who had finally quit smoking, but instead I'm looked upon as just a quitter. They are right to scoff; for one I've been an obsessed television watcher for most of my life, turning into a virtual zombie sitting on my bed watching my small screen of reruns with a towel on my head after taking a shower four hours ago. The other question is why now? For that, all I can say is...why not now? I've been meaning to read and write more, figure out what to do with the rest of my life, enjoy walks and being around three dimensional people; all things that television was imprisoning from doing.

And I'm sure my friends out there who do smoke would say trying to quit smoking and trying to quit television are not the same, and they'd be right. Quitting television is MUCH harder. At least the government has gone ahead and done alot of the work by banning it in restaurants, movie theaters, bars, aquariums, museums, hospitals, airports, etc. And if the inconvenience doesn't do it, the cost will, at nearly $8 a pack. I was spending well over $120 a month for television and Internet. And everywhere EVERYWHERE I go there are television sets propped up somewhere, pleading and tempting me to watch their screens. It doesn't matter which side of the table I sit, a television will without a doubt be nearby.

My biggest fear is causing an inconvenience among my friends. Take last Sunday- we went over our friends apartment for dinner and I placed myself purposely with my back to the television, which was showing football. I kept thinking someone was about to ask me an intense question as they leaned forward. Only when they yelled an obscenity or clapped their hands in victory did I realize they were referring to what was occurring behind me. Even at Joe's parents house, I felt compelled to keep my back to the television, trying to make sure I wasn't in the way nor being antisocial. I also feel bad because I don't want anyone to have to rearrange plans or be a problem to anyone. After all, this is my crazy ambition and other people shouldn't have to pay for it.

I don't mind, truthfully. What I really miss is being part of the water cooler conversations. It's truly amazing how much people bond and begin conversations with, "Oh, man did you see last night's episode?" or "Have you ever seen...". Not a day goes by where I don't hear around me people catching each other up on missed moments or neglected scenes.

But here I am, and I think maybe I'll even tighten the strings a bit more and watch less of Netflix, except for movies and documentaries. If I can make it this long, who knows...let's just pray it's a mild winter and we don't get snowed in...