my wednesday? s.o.l.
I have to meet my counselor at 6. I look up and it’s 20 ’til. Shit. Forget a good long walk, or the bus, I got just enough time to drive. Walking out the door, Luc hands me $20 for dinner and we part ways — I’m gonna hustle up the hill for a sesh with my talking doctor* and he’s headed to Interbay for some drunken putt-putt action.
“Sorry you can’t find your debit,” he tells me. “You sure that’s enough money for food?” I tell him I’ll be fine, say thanks, kiss.
I head toward my (dad’s) truck, parked in the final bastion of free no-time-limit parking within walking distance of our place. This also happens to be within walking distance of the Space Needle, which means you have to fight tooth and nail for a spot and some locals don’t move their car for weeks. As I round the corner I see a medium sized crane in the road — and the entire clear block, empty of cars.
I take three more steps before I realize that my car? It’s been towed. It was not moved by the construction guys who whistle when I’m climbing in the passenger side because the guy on my left parked too close to open the door. Nope. The smiley Stop/Slow sign holder didn’t tell them to just move me around the corner because you know that young woman (yes, young woman) is always around and will surely come for her car soon enough. Nu-uh. My little red truck was impounded.
It had been a bit of a rough day at work, and my stress levels have been a bit high, so of course my eyes start to well up, and I start thinking about my debit card being gone and how will I pay the towing people and ohman the truck might be in Dad’s name and what if he has to come down to get it out and ohgawd and… then I stop. What the hell. This is not worth crying or freaking out over. Just gotta deal with it and move on.
I check the time. It’s 5:50. I call Luc, who offers to come home. I say yes, please. I call my counselor, who offers a phone session. I decline, since I feel like I urgently need to start this mission. I get into the apartment and start looking up who tows cars in the City of Seattle. Luc walks in the door. Before I’ve found who to call, my phone rings from an 866 number. I let it go, but they leave a voicemail. I pause the towing-chaos to listen.
“This is Bank of America’s fraud department. There has been suspicious activity on your account. Please call…”
I look up at Luc, “Uhm, I guess you’re gonna have to pay?”
*Term taken from Bailee, like so many things
part 2: and then we ate some pretty good burgers.
It had been a bit of a rough day at work, and my stress levels have been a bit high, so of course my eyes start to well up, and I start thinking about my debit card being gone and how will I pay the towing people and ohman the truck might be in Dad’s name and what if he has to come down to get it out and ohgawd and… then I stop. What the hell. This is not worth crying or freaking out over. Just gotta deal with it and move on.
ack! that’s so my style. the recognizing, processing, and moving on bit was a long time coming but i’m pretty good at it now.
bai, this was so automatic for me, and i’m thankful. i don’t always react that way right when shit goes down.
7ucky, yes, we did. and it was fun.
I hope this epsisode has a happy ending. Please no cliff hanger till next week. Waiting for the “all better” here :O
ivisio, well, let’s see… we had fun walking to the towing place and getting burgers from blue moon which happpened to be half-price because apparently burger joints have happy hours. so, not all bad. but my car did get towed and my card did get used a few times before i shut it off.
inviso, I thought the same thing! (and I was there!)