As I sit here watching cars on Cinco De Mayo evening, I am reminded of much simpler times.

If you’re wondering why I am participating in this chosen activity. Well, let me tell you it’s the third time today not by choice.

Although this is going to post on Saturday morning, I am actually writing this on Friday night.

It’s possible I may miss Monday Macca this week due to this very situation in this post.

Today has been a handful in its own. It started with a solid plan. I was going to pick up my car and play shuttle so my darling didn’t have to sit bored af in the truck all day.

All was well until I made the error of returning to the place I passionately dubbed, “The Eighth Circle of Hell”.

I fully understand how this place of employment operates. This is not my first time being stranded in a random parking lot, in the middle of the desert or on the side of AZ 85. Impatiently waiting on this specific District Manager to distinguish his head from his asshole, or finally fuck off so the staff can actually work without being micro managed.

I can guarantee you, at this very moment in time there are at least 4 other people within 1000 yards of me that would fully agree.

I didn’t leave this specific job out of dislike for the actual work. I was let go by someone who has no idea how to manage qualified staff members placed below them.

But… we aren’t here to talk about that.

For the first time since staring prior to leaving, I was absolutely not anxious. I felt so loved by the amazing greeting from all my fellow co-workers, some really dear friends and family I loved working for.

Thanks for all the love guys! I miss y’all the most!

The time is 11:45am I got in the infamous blueberry and go to pull out. Sitting at the light the check engine light comes on and starts flashing. It’s been two weeks or longer since I have driven, let alone been out of the house. Yet, I’m still completely tuned into the various temper tantrums my 20 year old Kia throws. I managed to get it through the inappropriately long light at one of the most asinine intersections ever (7th Ave and the Dunlap/CaveCreek) and into a parking spot in front of an butcher shop. I am less than a walking block from the eighth circle.

I shut the car off and pop the hood. If it’s really bad, in a Kia you’ll know. Quickly.

Engine misfire on cylinders 2 & 4 or the water pump finally retired, was all I could think. But I wouldn’t have a for sure answer for at least 7 more hours.

I knew either one was bound to happen before very long. A year ago I purchased new coils and plugs for the death trap. Only to find that my ex-fiancée had put the mother fuckers in there so tightly, I couldn’t get them out. Being stubborn, I said “Forget it… one day it will die on me. Hopefully it’s a nice 70 degree day.”

Lort, strike me down if I didn’t call it. Misfire on cylinders 2 & 4.

In panic mode at this point. My primary focus is securing the assent. I tried to call my boyfriend, but he was loading and didn’t hear the phone. So I got out and manually locked all the doors.

For the youth born after 1990…in 2007, we still had manual locks, roll down windows and flip phones capable of surving a Jägermeister bath.

I start walking towards my ex place of employment. In my head the thoughts scrolled, “I hope he is outside. I don’t want to go in again. Where the fuck are my keys?!?!”

He wasn’t outside, I had to walk in where it was as awkward as ever. I sat down on the couch in the lobby, and proceeded to try to get ahold of my other half once again. Finally, I resigned myself to walk through the building. If I didn’t find him or he had already left, I had decided I would brave the half mile walk home.

Due to the area I was in, I said a little hope and went through the door. There he stood, staring at me with a confused look. I explained the situation, and that I had more than likely left the keys in the car. He gets me a ride home to get the spare key and wait until later to retrieve the blueberry.

On the way home, I stopped by the car and of course the keys are not only in the car. For the third time in my ownership of this vehicle, they are locked in the ignition.

Hashtag, GO ME!!

Arrive home around 12:45pm. Over the next 5 hours I’d have the pleasure of stressing myself out about the situation. My car is sitting with the keys in the ignition, in one of the more questionable parts of town.

About the only hope I had to hold on to was the fact that if some bum tried to steal it they wouldn’t get far before the engine completely seizes. If it wasn’t easily fixable, there was a company that would buy it for scrap in an hour.

Either way, I was at peace with the decisions I had made. In less than an hour I was going to either be buying parts or saying rest in peace.

6:28pm: Here we go. My extremely dear friend Tosh came to my rescue. A damn good mechanic and all around amazing human being, I did my best to keep him entertained while he changed all my spark plugs. By 7:42pm, this piece of shit is finally parked back in the spot where it left for it’s fateful journey 12 hours earlier.

I had agreed to take Biggie back to the event site he had dropped his truck at to come help me get the car sorted. I had been trying to be helpful all day. Maybe this would work.

Of course plans didn’t go at all in the right direction. Luckily, this event was on a university campus and there were plenty of common areas. I found a semi comfortable spot next to a sand pit of people playing volleyball. This is the location I am currently writing to you from. A not so soft spot next to the sand colored single story admissions building.

For such a train wreck of a day, I should be in a really bad mood. Yet, I’m able to smile and appreciate the little things. Like the freedom to walk under the glory of the full flower moon. Maybe we will get to go home soon.

-🍋💋