Survivor: The Divorced Suburban Woman Edition

After some gin and a good nights sleep, i’d shaken off the “birthday funk” from yesterday.  Delighted to discover no “dog spew”* this morning.  E-mail on the ‘berry telling me that my 8:00 am meeting had been rescheduled, and a chance to re-set my registers for a fresh start at my next year on earth.

No major office issues**, a pleasant “farewell” pot luck luncheon***, and an afternoon of productivity and calm.  Decided to go ahead with the purchase of a used Civic i’d found last night, and even had some time to get preliminary prep work done over the phone with the salesman.

And then?  i somehow became a game show contestant… [eerie music plays here]

i had planned to meet a friend for drinks after work, then have him drop a “lubricated” daisyfae off at the car dealer to sign the paperwork.  He was called away to deal with a kid issue, so i figured i’d just ride my bike out to the dealer to pick up the car.  Easy ride, sneak in some exercise, gorgeous day – sometimes life is good like that!

Arriving home, i still had to man-handle the garage door open, wandered out the mailbox to retrieve the days mail, and headed back in through the garage.  Hitting the “close” button – nothing.  Fuck.  Now, it’s completely dead.  Great – so rather than leave it up, i grabbed the manual closing rope – and lost a few square centimeters of flesh on my hand from rope burn as the door crashed downward.  Managed to stop the free fall – with my bloody stump – before it hit, perhaps saving the door from further damage.  Double Fuck.

But, no problem – i could get my bike out the back door, mount the car’s bike carrier on the back of my bike, and proceed as planned to the car dealer.  Onwards into the house to feed the mutt, change clothes and relax a bit. 

Decided to go ahead and call a garage door repair shop – and went to look up the phone number on the internet – but my wireless was kaput.  Fuck again!  Looked up the phone number from repair records from my last garage door trauma, prepared to call, but my damn phone was dead.  What?  Beginning to think that i was now being tested – i maintained my calm. placed the call on my cell phone, and arranged to get the door repairs done on Friday morning!  Ha!  Didn’t need to schedule an expensive “after hours” repair, as i would be picking up a car – which would be outside the dead garage door – and i could muddle through without further injury with the door!  Clear thinking!  Ha!

Feeling good again, and looking forward to my evening bike ride!  Bandaged the gaping wound on my hand, and managed to re-set my internal registers – again.  Attitude is everything.  It was a full 10 minutes later that i finally realized what had been wrong with the garage door – power outage! It happened between the time i’d opened the door (electric door opener worked, just required additional “wrangling”) and the time i went to close the door!  Went to the garage – inspected the door – and confirmed that the spring was now, indeed, broken from the crash.  Did i say “Fuck”?

Never mind – off to pick up the car.  Now, how to mount the bicycle carrier on my bike for a 10 mile ride?  Um… no way.  And the clock is now ticking as i’d arranged to be there to do paperwork at 6:15 pm.  Ok – i’m on a game show!  i’m being tested – i’ll just wear the damn thing around my neck!  And so i set out for the dealership, riding my bike, wearing what appeared to be a medieval torture device around my neck and shoulders.

The ride was fine – i was tooling along at a good 15 mph clip, feeling strong!  Not having much time to change after work, i had left my hair piled up in a casual tangle on my head – secured with an office binder clip because that’s all i had handy this morning.  Large, dangling earrings flying in the breeze!  Even if i looked like a maniacal, wheeled robotic gypsy – nothing was going to bring me down!  As i passed a few “competitors” along the bike path, strains of “I am a Rock, I am an EYYYYYYYYYYYYY-Yiii-Yiiii-LAND” ran through my head!

Needless to say my arrival at the dealership was met with some odd glances.  It’s not every day that a customer shows up on a bicycle, wearing a small cage, looking like a circus clown.  By the time i left there, i had groupies, had recruited two salesmen for future theatre auditions****, gotten an extended warranty for $200 over cost!  Ch-ching!  They were impressed that i googled retail vs actual warranty costs on my blackberry while they were trying to sell it to me….  In the end? A salvaged day.

Driving home – i had a much better song playing on my cranial mp3 player… let’s hear it for The Dead!

 

* it had become dangerous to walk through my house without the lights on… thankfully, he seems to be recovered and i can return to fumbling around in the dark.

** no meetings scheduled, hence i sat quietly in my office doing – Shhh… don’t tell anyone – WORK!

*** With the Best. Ever. Freshly. Made. Cherry. Pie….. Mmmmm….

**** i think i had their complete attention when we discussed my participation in Hair.  Half nekkid….

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6 thoughts on “Survivor: The Divorced Suburban Woman Edition

  1. That’s quite a story daisyfae. Sounds like you were able to maintain a zen-like calm in the face of the ebb and flow of karma. Good for you.

  2. The Tribe has Spoken – you ROCK! And now I’m hungry for pie. *sigh*. The curses of the innernet. Inspiration and compulsion in one post. Spectacular!

  3. silverstar – The kids wish i’d gotten a picture of the spectacle on the bicycle… perhaps someone caught a shot with a camera phone and will post it on the internet!

    rob – wasn’t so much ‘zen-like calm’, more like ‘completely beyond the giggle point’. i was maniacally silly (after i’d bandaged my hand, of course)…

    dolce – Cool! Does this mean i get extra minnows to eat for dinner?

    nm – damn right. any ideas?

    az – seriously, can we drink ourselves into a stupor for an entire week?

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