Jealousy is a terrible thing.
Oh, for crying out loud, Bridget. You’ll get a turn in the big seat. Stop being a Big Baby.
Blogging is weird.
A reader wrote a comment wondering where I’ve been. “You have us worried.” How nice. And how weird. Not the reader, silly — this blogging business. Wow! a blog is a big commitment. If I engage readers in my life (now how weird is that?), then blogging has to be a daily part of my life. I cannot just go away. I need to relax and write about . . . whatever! Just regular, ordinary daily life-stuff. It’s time to give up trying to be perfect and let go! So I take on the challenge: Make every day interesting. Not a bad idea for all of us, huh?
Have you ever become verklempt at Wal-Mart?
Bored maybe. Nauseous occasionally. Disgusted usually. But verklempt?
I pick up a few items so I can finish some tasks around the house . . . rubber gloves and cleaning supplies, drill bits, light bulbs, a few grocery items and another plastic storage bin. Well . . . you know how you get in a “zone” while shopping? You’re a zombie, plodding around, eyeballs fixed. I’m in that state of mind — or lack of it — as I stand in front of the cashier at check-out. I get out my credit card to swipe through the scanner. That’s when I see, peeking out of my wallet, the gift card I received as a retirement gift. Oh, I’ve got to remember to use that. I absent-mindedly look at the back of the card and there in tiny hand-printing is “$100.”
“One hundred dollars?” I say out loud.
“One . . . hundred . . . dollars? She gave me one hundred dollars?” The zombie cashier doesn’t notice or care.
Now try to understand why this hit me with such emotional force.
Remember I do not go out of my way to make friends. I tend to wander off by myself when everyone is having a great time chatting it up. I don’t CARE what you did over the weekend, okay? Yet this person, by force of her own sincerity, warmth, and sense of humor, understood this and led me into a friendship, the kind of friendship I prefer, the kind I can handle. No obligations. No expectations. No pretenses. And best of all, no excited “Let’s go shopping!” We never went to each other’s house, never did anything special together, just work and occasionally a lunch break at a fast-food place. Most likely our paths will never cross again. And here she goes and gives me $100!
It is all I can do to hold back the tears.
The greeter waves me on and I schlep out to my car. (Why is Yiddish creeping into my writing today?) Driving out of the parking lot, I decide to order the GPS I’ve been wanting. The one that costs about $100 more than I want to spend! Or maybe a camera! So my blog photos aren’t so crummy! Hmmm. This friendship stuff. Maybe it ain’t so bad. (Just kidding.)
The PTV takes another bite out of my wallet.
I stop by the dealership to have them replace one of the back-up light bulbs and also read the pesky idiot-light that says “check engine.” The guy writes up a ticket and hands me a pen to sign it. “It’ll be $88 to check it and then we’ll deduct that from . . . . ” I suck in my breath so fast he looks up from the ticket. I manage to choke out, “Not today.”
He says, “Wait a minute, Ma’am.” I watch through the glass front as he goes out, gets a sensor thingy, turns on the PTV, checks the light and comes back in. It took about 57 seconds. “You have a vacuum leak in the emission system.”
At that moment I don’t care if I have a vacuum CLEANER in the emission system. “Just replace the bulb,” I mumble. The cost: $34.00. I’m numb.
It’s good to be home.
“Bridget! Come here you little sweetie! I’m sorry. You’re not a Big Baby.” Wink.