Last Night

When hubby came home last night, self was having a rest on the sofa, and watching a movie called “The Prince and Me”, with Julia Stiles. Self did not even get up, as she usually does, but continued to lie on the sofa.

Message (unspoken) to hubby was: I am tired. Do not disturb.

Whereupon hubby began to suggest that self was too hasty in okay-ing repair on car’s timing chain. “Did you get a second opinion?” the man suddenly wanted to know.

Ah, no, actually, self did not.

“Why didn’t you call the Nissan dealership?” hubby wanted to know.

Well, that is a very. Very. Good. Question. Which self was in no mood to contemplate last night.

(Quarter going to hell in a handbasket. Good thing self didn’t say anything to hubby about the parking ticket. Or the lost electric toothbrush. Or the fact that she is so absolutely intense about her writing. At the moment. Which is a very rare thing. Too bad this rare moment had to coincide with the start of class at xxxx community college)

This morning, self decides that she needs to tone down her excellent ambition. Do wife-ly things, like water the lawn (If ONLY we could put the sprinklers on a timing system, self suggests to hubby. Which idea hubby vigorously rejects, for he says the sprinklers are out of whack, and even with a timer lawn would still have bare spots, blah blah blah. Okey-dokey, so self guesses that hubby would like her to water by hand. Hopefully, none of self’s students know where she lives or one look at the lawn and they might lose all respect for her)

Okey-dokey! Last Sunday afternoon, self was picking up a rental car from the San Francisco Airport, and the rental counters were clogged with people. It was as if all the airlines had gotten together and decided to deposit their passengers in San Francisco at the same time. Rental counter personnel were going crazy. Self stood in line for an hour. She passed the time by chatting on her cell with cousin in Virginia, who, as usual, was cooking. Cousin informed self that she is on quite a reading kick.

“I read the book you recommended,” cousin told self. “It’s quite interesting!”

“Which book was that?” self inquired.

“You know! YOU recommended it to me! The one about the arranged marriage?” cousin explained.

“Oh, Arranged Marriage! By Chitra Divakaruni!” self exclaimed. And wondered why half the people in line then turned to stare. Must have been the words “Arranged Marriage.” Self shook her head calmly at her fellow-sufferers, as if to say: “No, it is not I who have engaged in an arranged marriage. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

Anyhoo, by the time self reached the front of the line, the rental counter people were in hysterics.

“What kind of car do you want?” they practically yelled at her.

“Economy,” self said.

“None available. We can give you a mini-van.”

“No! I can’t drive a mini-van!”

“But it’ll be the same price as a compact!”

“But I don’t know how to park! I am very bad at parking! And I have never driven a mini-van in my life!” (Not true: self has driven a mini-van. And crashed it into a brick wall while she was backing up. Self saw no need to impart this information to Dollar Rent-a-Car, however)

“All right! You’ll have to wait an hour!”

“My, you’re busy today!” self ventured.

“Flight was delayed an hour, and then it was like a train of falling dominos.”

“Oh, I see,” self said calmly, and then inquired, “Where do I go while waiting?”

“You can go anywhere you like.”

“But is someone going to inform me that my car has arrived?”

(Barking) “Yes!”

“So how will you find me?”

“I am going to shout, at the top of my lungs, MARIANNE!!! All right???”

Okey-dokey! Self decided she’d better get out of there fast. And she found a little coffee shop selling coffee and potato chips, and began to snack. Snack, snack, snack. And after one hour, she heard “MARIANNE!!! MARIANNE!!! MARIANNE!!!” And self jumped up, upsetting her coffee, squeaking, “I’m here! I’m here! I’m here!”

And she got a silver car, and after a few errands, drove home.

Hubby was peacefully browsing the web. He didn’t even look up when self came in. But he did inquire: “So you got your car?” Which was, like, really a stupid question, because how else did he think self would make it home from the San Francisco Airport?

Stay tuned, dear blog reader, stay tuned.

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