I wake up from an unusually odd dream only to find that my waking life is a nightmare. Does this happen to you? Well, this morning, my day began with a frantic phone call from Carlos telling me that he was stranded on the back highway because he inadvertently ran out of gas. While he’s speaking, of course, I can hear a police officer in the background being-as-nasty-as-he-wants-to-be. Because he can. So, the plan is to hurry up, get dressed and make a quick stop at the bank. It’s 7:30am when he calls. The Bank, I thought, opened in an hour. I was wrong. It opened in an hour and half. That’s right: 9am.
The Horror, The Horror:
The car is located on a highway. The tow-truck arrives and he’s ready to tow the car, the cop is annoyed, and I’m just waking up to beat the clock. Once the transaction is made (an hour and a half later) there are no guarantees I can get the cash to him in time. MUST BE A SATURDAY.
After I finished cursing him out in my head, I got dressed in a hurry only to stand at the entrance of the local supermarket which happens to have a branch there. Great. So I gotta listen to that song about a girl who’s a blank, unwritten page in a book all while trying to look busy. I feigned interest as I picked up magazines on the rack that told me how I could lose 10 pounds in 10 days. Then I made it to the bride racks. Rows and rows of designer dresses (for less), how to throw an elegant wedding, china and place settings. It was nauseating. Every bridal mag trying to define “a modern bride”. Just what the heck is that anyway? Modern bride? It even sounds like an oxymoron. Does it matter if the bride selects the perfect candles? Will anyone remember anything but the food, really? Is it really necessary to know how to apply rouge to the apple of your cheeks to give the appearance of a rosy glow? Face it, if it takes this much preparation to be something that you’re not prior to the wedding, isn’t that false advertising? Doesn’t that pretty much guarantee that the wedding is already doomed before it started?
Martha Doesn’t Live Here Anymore:
From what I understand of relationships, the more Martha Stewart a woman becomes, the more like a Stepford wife she’ll be to her mate. Once your hubby is sufficiently terrified that you have transformed reality into perfectionism, he’ll begin to feel as though he isn’t good enough for you and will never measure up to highfaluting expectations. Eventually, he’ll seek solace in the loving arms of some tramp named, Ginger. She’ll exemplify everything you’re not: a gap-toothed grin, a penchant for duties that require her to be on her back, an expertise in the world of spiked heels with a laugh like a hyena and a vocabulary worse than a sailor’s. Bonus points if she is a former hooker who saw “Pretty Woman” and wanted to be like Julia Roberts’ character. Extra credit if she lives in a trailer park.
It Always Works Out in the End:
But stories like this one (especially pages from my life) always end up okay. If it weren’t for Carlos’ longtime sidekick, Damien, we’d be up the creek. He pedaled on his bike all the way to the supermarket from the back highway. Don’t ask me how he got to Carlos so fast…he ended up taking the cash and speeding it back to Carlos just in the nick of time. Whew! A true blessing, I tell you, because this could’ve easily gone the other way.
So when your day starts off a little messed up, just remember that you’re not the only one. Only you can turn things around. And a little help from the Man Upstairs doesn’t hurt either.