The beanbag chair

I'd like to take a moment to reflect on the concept of patience. OK....long enough......clearly I have none. Never is this more evident than when I gather up my courage to engage in social activities. In my world, this involves anything that may occur outside of my somewhat crappy townhouse. To say that I am comfortable with my own company is a vast understatement. Keep a steady stream of books and funyuns coming and a large control panel for my plasma screen that says "if you'd rather not listen to country music, please don't push this button" I'd never leave the house.

As it stands....I must interact, and as I interact......I reflect. I have plenty of time to reflect because this freakin woman is clearly taking a few moments to re-apply her nail polish after finishing her transaction at the drive up teller. Terribly hard on the cuticles putting her check in the slidey drawer actually. God give me the strength to accept the things I cannot change........and........and................however the fuck the rest of that saying goes.

Am I the only one in the world who takes next to no time for anything?!? You come out of a store, you get in your car, you start said car, and you fucking leave!!!! What is happening while I'm waiting for a parking space with my blinker on as the car in question just sits there. Just sits. I have to wonder what he's doing in there? is he steeped in silent prayer? is he balancing his checkbook? is he taking a moment for some much needed personal grooming? WTF!!!!!

Situations like this bring in to clear focus the fact that I am not of this planet. I am a fluke of nature......a genetic anomaly.......a beanbag chair in the formal sitting room of life. I can tell you that the Gods enjoy playing with us beanbags. Today, I noticed that one of my tires appeared to be a tad bit low. I'll stop by Sheetz with my handy dandy tire gauge and check the pressure and top it off a little if it needs it. I am after all, a modern independent woman and quite capable of operating most anything that doesn't look like a remote control.

I pull in and there's a line of 4 cars waiting for the air pump. The lead car is a large Buick who's tires are being tended by a large butt crack. Uhhhhhh.......hmmmmmm.......yup......thats all I saw. Stopped looking at that point. I'm waiting.......waiting.........trying to get the "Macarena" song out of my head. I finally give up and haul my ass to the grocery store. I'll swing back by Sheetz after, once the centennial air rush is over.

I come back to Sheetz, and there is now a line of 4 different cars waiting for the air pump. I'm in the twilight zone. William Shatner is in the car in front of me right?? with a gremlin in the passenger seat?? So I wait. This will be a good exercise for me. the line moves. No one is behind me. No one will be behind me. I'm last.

I'm up next. The Camry in front of me pops his trunk. OK.......bicycle tires.......this ought to be quick. 5 minutes....10 minutes.......How can he fucking take that long for bicycle tires!?!? He then checks each car tire with the pressure gauge 5 times after each blast of air. His life partner walks in and gets a bottled water and a tastycake which he eats as crumbs cascade down his cashmere sweater vest. He swigs greedily at the water with his mouth overflowing with tastycake. I can only imagine the backwash and cringe.

Finally it's my turn. There is still no one behind me. There won't be either. Hell will freeze over before another person needs that air pump. I'm sure that if I camped out all night....no one else in the tri state area would need that air pump. I check my suspected tire and the gauge doesn't move. Hmmmmmm....not even enough pressure to register. Yup......a tad bit low indeed. Us beanbags can see the inevitability of death in a smoldering cigarette butt, but won't necessarily notice a FREAKIN FLAT TIRE!!!!!!

Thank heavens I'm home now.

"OK....which one of you mongrels pooped in my shower!"