My battery needs a good charge
Get your mind out of the gutters, it really does need a good charge. Yesterday, I came down to the parking garage after an overly extended work day only to find that my barely 7 month old car died. I think I might have left the trunk askew when I went down at lunch to get my Ipod. But it seems odd that a trunk light would drain the engine battery of such a young car.
Luckily there were still people in my office so I was able to convince some poor soul to give me a jump. Too bad there aren't any guys I like at work because that would have been the perfect excuse to use the double entendre: "Hey, would you mind giving me a jump?" But alas, the only person I could find that had any jumper cables and who was leaving was this very kind female broker.
The thing that made me even more mad was that I had just pulled out my emergency road side kit but had yet to take it to my car. However, I did have the kit placed in the to-be-taken-to-the-car pile. So the fact that I had intend to take it to my car means that I thought about it. It would be easier to swallow my defeat if I had outright failed rather than actually to have put some effort into it.
But my car breakdown put the perfect cap to the day. I went home a did the only thing that was left to do. I made fifty billion gallons of fudge. Granted, half of the fudge was for the broker who helped me with my car and the other half for a broker who is leaving. There is something cathartic in not just the eating of fudge but in the making of it. The melting down of tangible things seems to quench my own need for a meltdown.
To recap: I had a breakdown, got jumped, fudged a little, and in the end found it all very satisfying. Tomorrow I think I'm going to burn down my house and then make baked Alaska. From now on I am going to displace my emotions in whatever dish I am cooking. Like water for chocolate: like therapy for crazy.
Luckily there were still people in my office so I was able to convince some poor soul to give me a jump. Too bad there aren't any guys I like at work because that would have been the perfect excuse to use the double entendre: "Hey, would you mind giving me a jump?" But alas, the only person I could find that had any jumper cables and who was leaving was this very kind female broker.
The thing that made me even more mad was that I had just pulled out my emergency road side kit but had yet to take it to my car. However, I did have the kit placed in the to-be-taken-to-the-car pile. So the fact that I had intend to take it to my car means that I thought about it. It would be easier to swallow my defeat if I had outright failed rather than actually to have put some effort into it.
But my car breakdown put the perfect cap to the day. I went home a did the only thing that was left to do. I made fifty billion gallons of fudge. Granted, half of the fudge was for the broker who helped me with my car and the other half for a broker who is leaving. There is something cathartic in not just the eating of fudge but in the making of it. The melting down of tangible things seems to quench my own need for a meltdown.
To recap: I had a breakdown, got jumped, fudged a little, and in the end found it all very satisfying. Tomorrow I think I'm going to burn down my house and then make baked Alaska. From now on I am going to displace my emotions in whatever dish I am cooking. Like water for chocolate: like therapy for crazy.
posted by Whit at 1:45 PM
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