Quick update because I have a TON of shit going on right now and a nice, stiff drink to get this one down on paper, or computer, whatever.
So, I have this new window garden business, for those of you that don’t know, sownsimply.com and buy the shit out of them so I can stay busy and keep my ass out of trouble. Anyway, as I was sending my favorite French duo, Gaylord and Chloé a window garden housewarming gift, to my surprise, this particular shit show was already well underway.
I get to the post office, and I have their package addressed all wrong and no customs paperwork filled out. I barely know what I’m doing right now, let alone when I’m trying to send a box of seeds to the other side of the planet. The kind lady at the post office gave me everything I needed and sent me to another desk to get to work. Now, when I first get there, I’m number 3 in line. And as luck would have it, I’m number 752 by the time I sign over my first born to customs. I barely get to the back of the line and hear the kind lady at register 3 call out for the French package. I was paying no attention (shocker right) as she yells a few octaves higher, “Hey France!”
That’s me! I’m France! I book it ahead of the rest of the losers in line as they stare at me like I just murdered their entire family. You could audibly hear the sighs as I march past them with my fancy, French package. I felt as though I should be carrying it with my pinky out and nose in the air as I saunter around the patrons and say, “It’s French, you wouldn’t understand.” Peasants.
I thank the kind lady at register 3 for taking me before the 9,621 other customers that got in line after me. And get this, she thanks me for being patient. Am I in the Twilight Zone? The answer to that question came in the form of a lady opening the main entrance door and shouting, “DOES ANYONE IN HERE DRIVE A JEEP WRANGLER?” As I slowly turn my head over my left shoulder and wait for her to continue, “IT CAME OUT OF GEAR AND ROLLED INTO THE LANE OF TRAFFIC!”
Yes, I was in fact, in the Twilight Zone.
But wait, there’s more! Can I have just one story where it doesn’t get worse after it gets bad? The answer is no. No, I cannot. Onward.
The lady shouting loudly in the doorway was reassuring me and everyone else in the building (and a 4-block radius) that there was no damage. It just came out of gear and rolled into the path you take to maneuver the parking lot. I faintly heard a “Well that’s good, cause I’m off work!” come from someone in the long line of people that I had just cut in front of.
I’m thinking, oh great, what the hell does that mean? My question was quickly answered as I pass a Port St. Lucie ACCIDENT INVESTIGATION SUV parked across from me.
It’s been a while since my last story, and I’d give you my apologies and tell you I’ll be better in the future but I’m about as reliable as a Jeep Wrangler’s parking brake right now.
Cheers!
