|I said, "9:30!"|
Today's necessary task to fill the time: routine oil change and inspection at Honda. There is
something beautiful about being able to choose any day and time for tedious but necessary appointments. (I'm calling the shots and I say, "Tuesday at 9:30!") There is also something horrifying about losing the concept of what day it is, and waking up in a hungover panic on Monday, thinking I missed my date with Honda, but that's beside the point.
The point is that my flip flop broke, the moment I stepped out of my car and struggled to get my key off my 5 pounds of tangled keychains. Even though I know nothing about cars, I like to give the illusion I do. I aim to march into Honda confident, stern, strong, knowledgable, a little irritable, showered, and with footwear that says, "I'll do the walking all over you!" Once that flip flop broke, the rest went out the window.
The service department quickly saw me as a weak gimp who could be offed with a wind gust when I tried to walk around the waiting area. The side of the flip flop came unattached from the bottom, so I clenched the flop with my toes, getting a few normal steps in along with the stumbles of when my foot would fall completely out of the flop. I tried turning my foot out more, turning it in more, shuffling the one foot, shuffling both feet, and throwing both flip flops at the TV, going barefoot. None of this helped me look savvy or employed.
|I need popcorn.|
1:38 p.m.: I sit in my car, my car alarm starts blaring, I get out of the car, looking around for what to do, since I've never heard an alarm from my car because my keys don't have a panic button.
2:00 p.m.: I drive away from Honda, vowing never to return.
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