Mamma

I took my car in to be worked on this morning.  I almost took it yesterday, but like I told the man at the desk, if I had it would probably have fallen on someone.  Yesterday was one of those days!

My pneumatic desk chair kept inching downward, leaving thirty-one inches of leg curled into an eighteen-inch space.  I found myself trapped in the beauty salon between two harpees whose incessant ugly chatter drove me nearly screaming out of the place, in search of another place who would take in a woman who only wanted a slight trim.  The next place nearly lost me in its insane need to have some kind of customer care card before snipping the ends off my hair. 

The look on that girl’s face when I asked, probably none to kindly, “Are you telling me you can’t just cut my hair?”  My breaking with protocol had left her cowering behind the counter like some sort of dazed rabbit.  She had to think.

“Well yes, but you wouldn’t get credit for it.”

I didn’t want credit.  I only wanted a haircut!  In the end I got a fantastic haircut.  I’ll go back there!  I even apologized for being so short with her, but I could care less about their cards.  It was not a good day.

This morning, however, was wonderful and that says a lot from someone who is not a morning person.  I showed up at the garage before seven thirty and they had coffee waiting!  Good coffee!

My car was put on the rack and the man behind the counter entertained me with stories about his mother.  She would kill him if she had even an inkling of what he told me, but he had me in stitches for the next forty-five minutes.  I can relate to mama.  She’s a woman after my own heart.

Today is gonna be a great day!