When I find the Chinese person who cursed me yesterday, I will make him/her sit in the corner with extremely slippery yarn and knit something complicated, using [broken] chopsticks.
I spent an hour and a half at jury duty yesterday morning, only to be assigned a courtroom for Monday. Came home and changed my clothing (I parked in the garage next to the courtroom, on the third level, and there was no elevator, and this is summertime in Texas.) Dithered for a few minutes while continuing to rehydrate and cool down, then decided to drive on into work and see how much I could get done, since I will be in District Court on Monday. Thankfully, not a criminal case.
So I was typing along, earning brownie points with my lawyers and feeling pretty good about the day, when some lackwit thought it would be a good idea to call in a bomb threat.
We evacuated the building and spent the first 20 minutes or so standing on our appointed emergency street corner, watching the police direct traffic away from the front of our building, just in case.
If it made the Dallas Channel 4 news last night, that lovely historical edifice would be ours; I know that this made the blog on the alternative newspaper. I think we were all sitting inside the McDonalds by the time the camera crew showed up. Which saved you all from hearing me worry aloud, not so much about how I was getting home, but how I was getting to the wedding reception in a southern suburb of Fort Worth later (I didn’t), or to BittyBubba’s birthday party this morning, or to my date tonight.
I do not do “stuck” well. I spent the last half of my marriage feeling stuck on a regular basis, and it is by the grace of Heaven that I did not have a full-on PTSD episode last night. Or asthma, or my left ankle puffing up like a blowfish, or a major outbreak of rudeness on my part.
Once they let us retrieve our cars, I ran the late mail to the big post office, since some of us stayed after the office was officially closed, and it was on the way home. And then I headed down to Vicki’s yarn shop to soak up some wool fumes. I knew I would not be fit company at a wedding reception, no matter how delighted I am for the groom and his lady.
When I hit Duncanville and spotted the Taco Cabana, I suddenly knew what I wanted for dinner: basic beef Cabana Bowl. Except that since I ate there last, they have “improved” their menu. And the girl at the drive-thru could not understand me, and she kept asking me to make decisions about my dinner, when all I wanted was what I had last week. After about a minute, I finally said “never mind” as politely as possible and exited the line.
I knew that if I had stayed there much longer, I would have lost my temper, or started crying, and it was not her fault that we had had a bomb threat, just as it was not my fault that I was momentarily incapable of making a decision. There was a Wendy’s on down the block. I got a side Caesar, a baked potato, and a bowl of chili. Comfort food, all of it, and relatively tasty, and by the time I was done eating it (in the yarn shop) I was feeling reasonably lucid.
This is going to be a busy day. I am heading out to the gym in a few. I will pick up Brother Sushi around 9:00, and he will help me deal with something unpleasant. I hope to be done with that quickly and on to BittyBubba’s party at 10:00 (but I am not holding my breath, because it involves other people’s agency, procedures, and agendas), so that I can come home and take a nap and get ready for a one-hour trek across Dallas in a car without A/C for date #3.
Thankfully, mercifully, I am not conducting RS tomorrow.
I have my playlist and CD’s for tonight’s line dancing lesson. I know where my ballet slippers are. I know which dolls I am taking. (Mel is bringing some of hers.) I may even get the second sleeve done on Chutzpah’s sweater this morning so I can put it in place and proceed to design the neckline and whether it will open in front or in back.
I am so glad the date was not last night, because I was just a big bundle of needs for awhile. Tonight I can go, enjoy myself, and be good company.
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!