Yesterday was my birthday, and for once, I decided to celebrate it, rather than dismiss it as a token of increasing age and its attendant annoyances, as I usually do. So, I laid my plans. I ordered a pretty dress from my go to on line clothing shop, and invited the gentleman who takes me (for a fee) shopping and on other errands, to lunch at a restaurant I like that has outside seating, which I love. Our apartment complex has also started a crochet class/group, and, since I’ve been crocheting since I was around 21 years old, I decided to go and have a nice gossip and share my love of all things yarn. Then …then.
I got a call from my friend, asking for a rain check, since his day “had not started well”. I didn’t ask, because there are probably things I should not inquire into very much. I just said sure, and began to consider alternatives. As we were talking, I glanced outside. It was raining, gray and generally uninviting, and right then, I should have changed into comfy informal clothes and spent the day doing just about anything else. I should have taken the hint!
Instead, I went downstairs to my crochet group, had a grand time with 2 charming ladies, and considered. By the time I came back to my apartment and stashed my project stuff, I had it. I’d go to the Waffle House nearby. Now, Waffle House isn’t a place I frequent, but every once in a while, I have to admit I do love its down home, greasy, fat, carb and chemical infused unhealthiness. So ..grabbed my Kindle, packed my purse, called a cab, and off I went. Had a perfectly self indulgent meal, too, with all the things I love, including smothered, cluttered (messed up) potatoes, a bacon and cheese omelet, and a waffle dripping in fake butter and enough fake maple syrup to drown myself in. It was nutritionally disgusting, and absolutely satisfying.
But I should have known. I was given a hint. When lunch was over, I went to call a cab. My cell phone had a full battery. I have unlimited minutes, and there they were, in all their glory. What I *didn’t* have were service bars …which meant …I couldn’t call a cab. My server, (the hero of this tragicomedy, explained that we were at the bottom of a concrete building, and that Waffle House had decided not to retain their hot spot. OK, so out I went, figuring I could step away from the building and make my call. No joy. I walked up and down the street in the now pouring rain. No dice. I turned the phone off, then turned it on again. “Call failed.” I turned off the Bluetooth device and tried again. At least the phone didn’t laugh at me, although the gods probably were, and singing “happy Birthday to you”, too.
Then out came my young man, bless him, who *had* phone service, and we called the cab. He kept an eye out, and saw the cab a little while later, skulking up the street a bit, and probably trying to call me. However.
Because of a very serious accident, I have extremely limited use of my left arm and hand, and I’m short. Short as in less than 5 feet tall. This means I physically cannot get into most vans without a ladder, or at least a step stool. I can’t put one foot on the step and pull myself with my arms, as I used to do, so I have (supposedly) a note in the cab company’s file to always send a car. Not this time. They sent a huge van, and there was no way I was going to be able to climb, crawl, or sprawl my way in. The driver promised to get me a car, but my hero (who will be starting University soon to study psychology) and I decided that to be certain I’d get my car, he would call Checker cab and explain. By then, I was as bedraggled as a wet cat, so I waited inside. The cab came, my champion escorted me to it, I thanked him profusely, and off I went home. Ah, but the gods weren’t done!
This Waffle House is a 5 minute (and that is if the lights are against you) ride away. I could physically walk the distance, but there are lots of extremely busy streets to cross, less than perfect pedestrian safety features, and construction to deal with, so I don’t. Well, we got into my apartment complex in less than 5 minutes …to find the very first traffic jam I’ve ever seen here in over 2 years of residence. This isn’t an exactly well travelled street, just a little residential street, but either there was a huge party (my surprise party, maybe?), a very fat Greek wedding, or a State funeral, because no one was going anywhere.
I offered to get out and walk, but by then it was really pouring, and I let myself get talked out of it. I waited. Waited …waited … listened to some financial guy on talk radio (who was actually funny) waited … only to learn that the driver could have taken another street and side stepped it all. Finally, the gods got interested in creating a new star system or pestering someone else, and I got home. I even got upstairs, and into dry clothes.
While thinking about all this, I was just a little self pitying, and decided I’d gone through all that for nothing but an uncomfortably full tummy, probably 7 pounds I certainly don’t need, and the old woman had still just officially gotten older. Then I started to laugh.
I should have taken the hint! But I didn’t, and got myself the present of a blog post inspiration. You know what? It was worth it!