There’s something truly amazing about Fridays that creates a vacuum in both time and space, forcing the clock on the wall to actually tick backwards. Of course, it’s an unproven hypothesis but it would explain why it takes so long for the weekend to get here.
Not that I’m anxious for this week to end. It’s been an interesting enough; Ag Day on Tuesday, my car breaking on Wednesday – and yesterday, I found $40 in the pocket of a pair of my jeans, leftover from one of those wild and crazy trips to the grocery store – when things got out of hand and I found myself rearranging items at the checkout line to avoid smashing bread products with canned goods and a gallon of milk, I slipped some extra cash into my pocket and forgot about it later. Such is the exciting life I live. (Finding loose change in the dryer makes me scream like a nine-year-old girl. Finding $40 in my pocket nearly gave me an aneurism and an unforgettable scene for fellow grocery-shopping onlookers).
In regards to my car, all is doing better than I had expected. The warning lights are making the dashboard light up like a Christmas tree, but fortunately none of them have to do with the recent noise it’s making – at least I think it’s fortunate. The old car (a.k.a. The Rolling Turd, named after the motor home in “RV”) is in need of new struts and springs, but I think I can put the problem off just a little longer, at least until it begins to bounce so much that holding a cup of hot coffee becomes a little too risky. My thanks to the few who emailed me suggestions or comments about my auto woes from my last blog, but my plan A is still in effect… If someone wants to steal my car, I promise to act surprised… Come to think of it, I really would be surprised. I promise to act disappointed.