Lock myself in my apartment and exclude my very existence from the rest of the creatures that people this wonderful orb that is the proprietor of our tenancy. Being the day after that hallowed time where my fellow Americans display an equal amount of gratitude and gluttony, I find myself not so appreciative. I awoke to the sound of a rock band I do not particularly favor, and the telephone growling. I had lined up some extra labor and the ogre on the other end of the line informed me that he could not pay my agreed wage, and that I should keep my substantial derriere at the house. Remuneration I felt necessary if I am to enjoy the birth of the God of my understanding.
I shut down the cacophonatious contrivance entreating me to proclaim myself a purveyor of copious amounts of sex, drugs, and Rock n’ Roll. It is a poor state I find myself where it comes to issuing edicts associated with the music I so favor. Sex is a burdensome endeavor given my advancing age. The drugs are mostly those for which I ingest to perform the first part of this triad of bliss, and my CD player ate my favorite sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll collection last night on my way back from the Great Day of Thanks. Said confluence of events and vexations has left me quite irritated this beautiful morn.
One week ago today I exchanged my chief method of perambulation for a new-fangled device in which to pass through this cluttered journey we call life. It is a means of transportation that I had been salivating over for the better part of a passing moon. My previous coupe had begun to make signs of wishing retirement and the purveyor of automobiles where I trade offered to let me obtain my neophyte means of transportation with not much bother. Here I am now, driving my almost dream medium in the search of distance and utility. Almost in that it is of a pre-owned demeanor. My dream is for one of original-in-the-same-year-I-am-living manufacture.
I began this quest by taking steps toward this goal once I realized the gift of being initiated into the world of academia as a reader of letters to the wonderful waifs at my institution of erudition. I noticed that everyone was driving new cars and, not wanting to be left out, grew a desire for the same. The first step was to procure a conduit for conveyance that had been created-in-the-same-decade-that-I-was-living. I accomplished that with my recently retired quadrupedal device containing rubber tires in the place of feet.
The current chariot is a step closer to my goal, and it is a respectable step. However, there are always issues when one procures a pre-owned delivery device. I have spent the last week dealing with these minor annoyances, and today is one more stage in that quest for perfection. I had to take it to the dealer for a lighting problem and to rescue my CD from the jaws of a demonic device that will cost me to replace due to it not being worthy repair. I have been given a “loaner” which I believe existed in a former life as a Matchbox car, and devoid of liquid required by the engine to be in motion.
Right now I must discontinue my musings to watch Jeopardy. I don’t think I’ve used enough big words today and need to recharge…
Well, Jeopardy failed to appear this morning, and in its stead was a football game where two college teams lay siege to each other as a part of the crusade that is the BCS National Championship. I am not a viewer of sports of this type (or any other with the exception of the current World Champion Major League Baseball team) but did not find umbrage with this. I live in Texas and feel no need to comment or receive the vilification I would if I were to disparage the purveyance of the pigskin.
It is several hours later and, after lunch, two rerun episodes of “Criminal Minds, a nap, a time spent reading of St. John the Apostle, and a hot shower, return to this diatribe. My Steed is still in the care of the practitioner of automotive audio and visual wonderment mentioned earlier. I am still irritated over this, and I am further aggravated at the failure of this piece to elicit any relief from the unknown malady I am enduring. My purpose today was to wash away the exasperation I felt over the vehicular realities of the day by writing about my boyfriend-in-law, Captain Domesticado. He is probably not aware of it, but he performed a massive service to me on the occasion of giving thanks for eating too much turkey and dressing. No, it is not that he purchased the food I thoroughly found irresistible enough to drive eight hours to imbibe. He tended my soul. I am grateful. But that is for another piece that will not founded in irritation and abhorrence.