Stories of this life gone astray
Long story short, the a/c guy told us last Tuesday that it would take five to seven business days for him to get the necessary parts and authorization from the insurance company in order to come back out and fix it. Five to seven business days? We’d be without our upstairs air for a full week? Couldn’t he just come back − tomorrow?
Research suggests that memory gives precedence to backburnered items over other to do items. In other words, you’re brain is going to nag you.
Mona:
No, Baby. That was the day before yesterday. Remember, that was on Saturday, right before we had the cold front move through and we got the tornadoes, torrential rain, and death and destruction? Ring a bell?
Lauren:
Kind of. I was working. Plus, Saturday … that was the day when everything was going wrong at work. Remember? I told you all about it and how super busy I was … so the weather was like the least of my concerns.
“God, Mom, I can’t believe you’re having so much trouble eating a sandwich. IT’S. A. SANDWICH. THEY ARE LIKE THE EASIEST THINGS IN THE WORLD TO EAT! But as Lauren was saying this, one of my avocado slices decided to escape, again, in the most ungraceful display of sliced avocado rebellion I’ve ever encountered. It plopped to my plate. Talk about perfect timing!
I write lyrics to rock songs that aren’t songs at all because they have no melody. They probably never will be rock songs. I know. It’s a weird thing.
Mona:
Okay, Smartypants, is the saying, “the spitting image” or “the spit and image?”
Yesterday at Sam’s, I finally decided that − hey, it’s Christmastime, so what the hell and why not? If I want a coloring book that I don’t have time to color, by damned, I’ll get myself one. I’m so glad I did.
Over the TV we were told that the police had mobilized an assault to try and free hostages. There would be no negotiated release. Eighty-nine would be the final count of the dead inside.
