Pretend I Have A Clever Title
I should be curled up on the couch right now under my green chenille afghan by the warmth of the gas logs. Instead I’m shivering in my office chair at my usual perch in front of the computer. WHY? Because when I was at the grocery store this evening, I noticed the Red Box by the entrance — do y’all have those? It’s like a soda or snack machine dispenser but instead of buying sodas and snacks, you can rent movies. I had never tried the Red Box before because it looked intimidating and I generally only try new experiences under duress.
But I knew that tonight I’d be home alone after the kids went to bed, and I had a sudden hankerin’ for a chick flick so I stopped by the Red Box on my way out and gave it my best shot. All went swimmingly until it was time for the machine to spit out the movie, and then nothing happened. I stopped a passerby to ask if I was supposed to be doing something, and she said that it usually pops out right away. So we waited for a few minutes, and just as I was about to call the 800-number on the box, I got an error message that reassured me that my card would not be charged but also informed me to try again another time.
And THAT is why I’m sitting here rather than watching a movie. Aren’t you glad you asked?
Speaking of the grocery store, I had a sudden and rare opportunity tonight to shop unhindered by demanding children, but I was lost without a list. I wandered the aisles until I finally gave in to the fact that I am totally uninspired in the cooking department these days. I bought a few bare essentials such as milk and Boursin and Wheat Thins and then called the Mexican take-out joint nearby and placed an order for dinner.
That would make tonight the second night in a row that we have had takeout for dinner. Which is disgusting, I know, don’t judge me. Takeout is a funny thing. It always sounds good in theory, but it never quite lives up to its expectations. Food has a way of all tasting the same after it’s been sitting in a paper bag for 20 minutes.
And speaking of absolutely nothing related to high maintenance automobiles, my car is fixed. AGAIN. My husband worked from home today so we could take my minivan to the dealer’s, and a mere $550 later, I have working front AND rear windshield wipers and 5 working door handles. So it’s as good as new. Or, you know, as new as a Toyota can be with 110,000 miles on it.
Oh get this. On the way to pick up the car, we had the whole family packed like sardines into my husband’s pickup truck and we witnessed a near head-on collision. The cars missed each other by about 2 feet. Fortunately neither was going too fast to stop. I wish you could say the same for my heart. It was like watching a TV show play out before my eyes — I could see what was about to happen but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. But all’s well that ends well, and I’m sure everyone drove a little more carefully after that!
So that’s about the sum total of my day. I can NOT believe that a week from today I’ll be in Nashville at BlissDom09!! Sorry, I just had to throw that in. Can. Not. WAIT.