A big guy driving an SUV nearly ran over me, waving a cigarette and demanding my name. I think I am going to just stay indoors and read from now on. Or maybe learn a martial art. Haven't decided.
The days are darker longer, the air is cold enough to need long sleeves and the car heater in the mornings. This morning I sat and listened to my rear speaker giving its death rattle while Jack Black finished yowling, then shut the car down, pulled my boots back on and headed for the library. One of the office guys met me in the parking lot. "You just had your birthday? How old are you?" "27." "Ughh! You're younger than me! Oh, man. I'm sad. I'm getting older than people." I laughed. He's 28. Tough times, the late 20s.
A red flyer in my mailbox told me to dress up as something that "best illustrates the holiday season" for Spirit Day at school. The clip art showed candles, pot-mitts, and drums. I tried to imagine how I would make a giant pot-mitt costume. I thought maybe I wanted to dress as an oven, and the cynical part of me thought a bleeding ATM would be better, but I knew I would just end up in a red sweater and a jingly hair tie. On second glance, I realized that Spirit Day is on my divorce court date, and imagined standing in front of the judge in a cardboard oven costume. Hmm. Off the hook for that one.
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