I must have slipped into the rare realm (for me) of self-importance lately. Because the Universe has been having fun pummeling my ego out into the stratosphere. I’m being forced to face the grace of acceptance. Being in the present moment at all times. Being ever more grateful. And being able to stand back and laugh. Because, seriously, life—my life—is ridiculous. Especially in these Mercury in Retrograde moments when communication, transportation, exasperation are so insane that all is one big “askew you.”
Example. I lost my wallet. It vaporized, I swear it did. Went to the bank already hysterical from turning my purse, car, entire world inside-out-and-upside-down looking for the damned thing, began cancelling credit cards, on the verge of pulling my hair out, when the smiling young girl behind the desk asked if that man sitting next to me (Pete), was my son.
She’s lucky she’s still alive.
And the fun continued the next day at the DMV. I know you know how hideously humbling that experience is. I drove there first thing in the early morning to beat the 8 a.m. door opening crowds only to experience a please-tell-me-this-is-not-so line wrapped around the block. REALLY!???? And so we wended our way down the line feeling like so many losers about to be shipped off to our fated punishments.
Finally, after filling out whatever sense I could make of my application form for a renewed driver’s license my number was up. Or rather it was called. And then more fun was to be had. I was facing the she-devil herself. Spewing fire-arrows at me, the prune-faced Nurse Ratched (see “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest”) reduced me to a shaking child being raked over the coals damning me for not returning the clip-board to the front desk, for not writing the right numbers as requested, for asking her if she was having a good day. “Why is everyone asking me that!!!”, she hissed, fire and brimstone thundering before me. I didn’t know if I needed to call over an exorcist or an inferno-translator to help me get through all the obvious wrongs I was doing to cause her such vileness. The list went on. This was nothing I was going to win and the best part of it was running out of that sad pit of hell and vowing to never put myself into that place again.
It Got Better
Good stuff happened during the following days that balanced out this bad. Case in point, a Good Samaritan turned my wallet into another store and a week later (after all cards were cancelled and a new license was on its way, and I had just purchased a brand new wallet that day) I eventually held the unscathed wallet in my hand and ate more humble pie, so grateful to know good people do exist along with hateful ones and to remember that it was I who by not being in the present moment had caused this series of finger-flipping insanity.
And then the coup de grâce: my lovely Ukrainian friend, age 31, asked me if I would take her to Victoria’s Secret to return something? She didn’t have a car that day and we would grab a lunch as well. Sounded like fun though I make it a policy not to hang out in Boom-Boom Land. Dark and shadowy and pink and silky it really was like entering a bordello for the nubile.
I felt like any second bells would go off and all eyes would focus on me, “There’s someone un-perky and old in here! Get her out!” An elegant sales woman approached me, her beautiful silver hair swept into a braid. So refreshing.
“Would you like to try on a bra?”
…she asked gently in a rich Spanish accent. I told her I hated bras and only wore them if I was wearing something see-through. Otherwise—she agreed with me, “Yes,” she laughed. “We were burning bras in the sixties, right?” And she confided that she hated them too but had to of course wear them to her place of work.
Meanwhile, my gorgeous friend kept opening the dressing room door asking me which bra looked b(r)est. I was glad Pete wasn’t there. She’s seriously pin-up personified. And then another dressing room door opened with an even younger beauty showing her friend one gossamer perfection after another. Were those real? Could anyone seriously have such nonchalant beauty in one voluptuous body?
I couldn’t help telling her, “I hope you appreciate yourself right now because in a few years before you know it you’re gonna look like me!” She laughed and said kindly, “I wouldn’t mind that at all.” I looked heavenward. “Have I done enough personal penance? Are you through with me yet???”
Apparently not, but I have to stop before I get myself and you entirely depressed. But I do know what Victoria’s Secret is…. Youth. Possibly implants. And a strong stomach. Go in there at your own risk. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
And Mercury in Retrograde? If I could clock you big time I would. You’re ridiculous.
