I prayed for rain today. I also prayed for the guy blowing his lawn at 7a.m. to contract an aneurysm. Needless, cars revved; my doofus man-boy neighbor slammed his screen door; a dog began his barking mantra. I prayed and prayed for thunder, lightening, downpour. The sky stayed blue. The temp. spiked at 70. Apparently I’m not in with God.
I crawled to the cafe, feeling blurry, “coffee, coffee, coffee,” to Sarah who delivers it in a round little cappuccino cup, warm off the espresso machine. Sigh. I could have sat there all day, crocheting my new man tie, sipping my favorite liquid, rubbing Zephyr’s belly with my foot. But I had a dentist appt. . . . across town in the evil icky noisy suburbs. I savored each second left and then departed.
Traffic was crazed and clogged, but I arrived on time, which is how I like to be, very punctual. But the door was locked. Where was the dentist? I knew instantly it was me, not him. I knew I had snafued it again.
It seems, no matter how hard I try lately–and I do, really–I make these wildly odd mistakes. It’s surreal, like someone playing a time switcharoo on me. And yet it’s me. (In my defense, my mother, and even my grandmother–God rest her soul–are all a bit loopy on the day-to-day stuff. Which is crazy unfair, since we take it so seriously! We are an incredibly punctual people. And now. . . ?
I left the dentist, wandered about, planless, like a rat looking for a maze exit, before Zephyr and I finally landed at the river. Breathe.
Oh, and my dentist appt? Right day, next month. . .
Pink Popcorn Tree
Zephyr at Pink Popcorn Tree