Oh yes... 2009. The new year. All that good stuff.
Well, the Crapmobile Mark II died. I mean, really died. You can't drive it for a block without thick choking smoke pouring from under the hood. As a $1200 (minimum) repair is out of my league these days, ye olde Crapmobile sits motionless in the parking lot outside Chez Merde, and I've been doing the gimpy shuffle to the bus stop in the morning. Bus service in my neighborhood is irratic, at best, and MoCo is planning on cutting buses on the route this year. As it is, if you are gimptastic like I am, you're screwed on the weekends; the bus to the Metro does not run on Saturdays and Sundays. This does keep me from doing any unnecessary shopping (she writes, finding the silver lining in a lead- and asbestos-soaked cloud.)
I don't mind taking the bus and the Metro - as long as I get on early enough to avoid the cranky commuters (especially those who hate fat people on public transportation.) I made the mistake of leaving home in the middle of rush hour one day last week and got a lovely - and probably permanent - reminder of why I don't enjoy Metro during peak hours. On the escalator to the platform at my home station, a young businessdude, surely engaged in some world-altering deal on his Crackberry, slammed his briefcase into the back of my left knee and took me clear off my feet. Yup, he knocked me down the escalator. I made a body and bone-shocking landing on the platform, which was covered in black and muddy sleet.
And chipped some of my teeth.
Bastard didn't even stop. He had to have known he knocked me over. Okay, he probably didn't mean to do it. Unless he is a sadist, it was an accident. But still. GET OFF YOUR PHONECALL AND STOP TO SEE IF I'M OKAY, YOU DOUCHEBAG!
Three people halfheartedly tried to stop him as he got on the train. They all reminded me of Gene Wilder in "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" as he deadpans his false concern for the children who make terrible choices. "No, no. Stop. Please. Stop."
I went home, took a shower, scrubbed the grit out of my palms, examined my teeth, applied a lot of ice to a lot of places (astoundingly, I came out of this without any bruises on my face!) and made a return trip to the place of my humiliating defeat. Oh, what fun!
Frankly, I look forward to becoming one with the automotive rat race at some point. I know it may not sound green. It may not be my finest earth-first moment. But I'm not sure my spine will still speak to me if I end up getting knocked ass over teakettle down some moving stairs again.
Plus, I have this full-body migraine tonight after waiting a good long time for the last bus home in subfreezing weather.
I know, whine, whine, whine.
Truth is, as always, I'm lucky.
I have a job.
I have a roof over my head.
And I start the year off grateful for friends and family.
The past month has been very tough. I have gotten much better about the random rounds of tears that pop up. I'm incorporating little bits and bobs from my sister's life and home into mine: her old Pyrex bowls, a few pieces of inexpensive jewelry, a wall hanging she bought on our trip to Thailand... it's a simple tribute, but I think she'd appreciate the fact that they've found a good place at Chez Merde.
And now, another attempt at sleep. Last night, I just couldn't get warm, and I flopped all night long. I think today has me worn out enough to get some solid shut-eye.
Here's to warm blankets, peaceful rest, and sweet dreams.