Queen of Rambles

Back when I was teaching I used to test out other occupations in my mind. I’d imagine how easy it would be to have a 9-to-5 job that didn’t involve laws and regulations dreamed up by people who hadn’t stepped foot in a classroom for 20 years. I’d fantasize the peace and quiet that would come from a lack of parents and administrators. I’d convince myself that if only I was a “insert weird job here” I might find a little happiness.

Surprisingly, truck driver topped my list of alternate professions. I wasn’t much into exercise, so I thought it would be peaceful to sit on my ass all day and watch the country side pass me by. I conveniently forgot that I can’t sit still for more than five minutes at a time, I get car sick even when I’m driving, and freeways totally stress me out.

Today I was a truck driver.

Ok, so I rented a pick-up and drove up and down a 10 mile stretch of highway a couple of times.

It was enough to convince me that life on the road isn’t for me.

Back in January we ordered a rocker/recliner so I could rock my stubborn baby to sleep at night. It was supposed to come in within three weeks, but you can see it’s taken three months instead. Amazingly, the day I called and got aggressive they just happened to “find” it. I must have magical powers.

It was a craptastic furniture store, as we should have realized from the name: Sticks and Stuff. Also, the ads should have clued us in. A women from Nascar is their spokesmen. She wears giant globs of black eyeliner that age her at least 15 years. We aren’t so good at the context clues, so we took our ad for a super cheap rocker and found the store.

The run down showroom with dirt and trash should have given us another clue. The workers with unprofessional slob clothes should have sent off warning bells.

But we had an ad!

They don’t deliver, but gave us the number to Enterprise, so today I went down and dealt with Enterprise and got my freakin’ rocking chair. It is not purple or green. It is brown. It shall be going up in our loft because I can not have a brown chair ruining my living room decor. As much as I don’t care about dressing fancy, I want my house to look nice since I am finally at a point in my life when I don’t have to live with hand-me-downs and Goodwill merchandise.

Driving up a busy highway with no useable rear view mirror is not an experience I care to repeat. I’ve hauled loads of stuff over on the west coast in small towns and everyone watches out for each other and gives way when someone clearly is having driving challenges. Even when we drove on the highway around San Francisco people would give way when you used your ticker and make room if you were obviously lost and needed to switch lanes.

People back here are not that nice. They are in a hurry! They have places to go! They have meetings with the president! Or with Starbucks! Or whatever the hell it is they do that is so important they have to run a novice pick-up driver off the road.

So now I need a new fantasy career. I’m thinking electrician. They make lots of money and don’t have to dig ditches or slop through sewer water like plumbers. I would get to fidget a lot. I like fidgeting. I wonder if there is an age limit for the apprentice programs. I know there is an age limit for plumbing apprentice programs (my dad is a plumber).

Now you’ll have to excuse me while I go remove a cord from my kid’s mouth and try to rock him to sleep. Why do I bother to buy toys? He just wants cords and paper.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, March 28th, 2006 at 6:51 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.