Now that I am in for the evening, and have
no will to go out again, I remember the thing I was going to do before I did all the stuff I just finished doing:
Visit the
car wash.
I haven't been to a car wash in maybe 10 years. I vacuumed out my
little black hatchback before the weekend, cleaned out the ashtray, washed all the windows with
Formula 409 (cuts
smoke film better than Windex), stocked the
change tray with dimes and nickels for my $.50-a-day
Parkway habit, even got the
dried spilt coffee out of the
cup holder - but no one would guess how spiffy my
wheelz is by the exterior.
What I
did: replace my cheap, bad
tweezers with cheap good ones, bought new sheets (the
hand-me-down pink sheets didn't cut it for me, I kept dreaming about finding the perfect
little black dress on sale), had a
calzone and a root beer at
Scotto's, threw away perfectly good money on a couple of
state lottery tickets, laundered bedding and whites.
My assistant did not cry at work today, making it a better day, in that way, than Friday.
It wasn't my fault. I told her, I may seem like a soft-spoken
nice guy but if anyone gives her
flak again, send their
sorry ass my way and I'll
take 'em to school. That seemed to make her feel better.