Let Me Entertain You With My Awkwardness
Things are weird. I am weird. I am weird with things. Things are weird with me. Me with weird are things.
My Facebook account is restricted for 24 hours because I commented "I wanted to murder her father" on someone's post in my Book Bingo group, about an abusive father who also happened to be A FICTIONAL CHARACTER.
Right after I got this notification, I tried to log into Cloud Library (the express ebook platform for the library) and it was glitchy, so I deleted the app and reinstalled it. Then I tried to log in with my library card number and pin number and it didn't work. I did it roughly ten more times, checking the number carefully, and it still didn't work. Was this a big huge deal? Not really. I could read books on my Kindle app. I could read books on Libby (the NON-express ebooks library app). I could read books from, like, the shelf made of actual paper. But NOTHING ON MY IPAD WAS FREAKING WORKING and it was bugging me.
Before the technology irritants, I had to drive my mom to her dental surgery appointment. I believe I have mentioned that it's never a super fun time driving my mom somewhere like this, when I'm nervous about finding the place and she's nervous about me finding the place and she's nervous about the procedure and, well, this time, she had also been fasting, so imagine that.
I said I'd pick her up at 12:20 for a 1:00 appointment. I picked her up at 12:22. At 12:40 she said "I feel like we're still quite a ways away from it" (she had no idea where we were or where we were going). I said "it's a 25 minute drive and I picked you up forty minutes before the appointment". She said "You didn't pick me up QUITE forty minutes before". "........"
I dropped her off (a good eight minutes early, thank-you). I did that weird thing where I tried to knock off a few errands, but it wasn't my usual neighbourhood and I didn't know exactly how long I had and I was nervous about missing the call from the office when she was done, so I was a bit on edge. I went to the drugstore, picked up a couple of grocery things, then went back and parked near the dental office. It was around the time they said she'd be done, but they were a few minutes over. I was low on gas, and I had seen a gas station just around the corner, so I started to drive back towards it. Then the phone rang and I answered and they said my mom was ready. I was right at the gas station. Could I have taken five minutes to fill up? Absolutely. Did I? No I did not. I pulled a U-turn and went back to the office, thinking I had plenty of gas to get home and I would just fill up there.
I fetched my now-effusively grateful (also mildly stoned) mother and started for home. The low gas light came on just as we got back on the highway, with no gas stations in sight.
I have no idea how far I can go with the low fuel light on. I have no idea why I didn't just say "I need gas" and pull off. The goddamned CAR said "This vehicle is low on fuel, do you want to search for nearby fueling options?" and I said NO.
Anyway, I talked to my mom normally while keeping one anxious eye on the gas gauge and screaming internally WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS to myself, until we made it almost home and I saw a gas station and pulled over and felt massively relieved. And dumb.
I had talked to Collette about going to the House of Cheese and the One Plant store next door after my mom's appointment was done. My mom's house is really close to Collette's, so I texted her that I was ready and drove over to her house. We had also talked about going for a walk this week and when I got to her driveway she had texted back "want to walk over and kill two birds with one stone?"
Where we were going was far. Like, really far. Further than I've ever walked on a normal walk. I know Collette's been walking a lot lately, so maybe she thought it was a normal walk? I waffled briefly, but I need more exercise and Collette is a really good friend and a very strong personality and I might have a small problem saying no to her. So I said "okay". She said she'd put some sunscreen on and be right out.
I googled how far it was. It was eight kilometres. EIGHT KILOMETRES. ONE WAY. CARRYING CHEESE.
I am a grown-ass woman, and I steeled myself to say "I do not feel like walking sixteen kilometres today, Collette."
She came out of the house and got in the car. I said "Um, so..." and she said "yeah, we're not walking, Rachel just reminded me where it actually is, I thought it was by Walmart" (more like one kilometre away).
Collette is a really good friend with a really bad memory.
We bought a triple-cream brie, a cheddar with claret and a smoked gouda. We went next door and bought, as my niece always says, "some weeds" (which is pretty much as intelligent as I sound while trying to ask for anything there). Then we couldn't find the exit, but that was okay, because we had a ton of cheese.
I have gotten so much better at being less weird and hesitant about speaking up for myself. By the time I'm, say, a hundred and forty-three, I'll be perfect.
Comments
I have a couple of strong-willed friends, too, so I felt like you did EXTREMELY WELL to even START with the "Um, so." VERY NICELY DONE. (But I'm glad she was like "Yeah, absolutely not," rather than...well, anything I can imagine one of my strong-willed friends replying, if they DID want to walk 16K.)
I am so mad about your RIDICULOUS Facebook ban!!!
Your FB thing reminds me of what happened to R - he commented on a video in which a guy was in a laundry basket on a treadmill, seeing how fast the treadmill could go before the laundry basket - with the guy in it - flew off. He commented "guys are dumb" which is a very true statement no matter the context, and it got deleted and flagged for being "hate language."
How were the cheeses? Did the girls like them?
We still need to get that walk in. :)
I've done the gas thing and I always say: What are YOU thinking? STOP and GET gas.
I'm glad all went well with your mom and I love that she had a slight snide remark on your tardiness. {noted, Mom noted!}
I had to google how to convert kilometers to miles and not on your effing life. Not for a charity. Not for cheese.