So we leave the KW dealership last night after they did nothing. I really didn't care at that point if I ever saw my truck again. I also would never want to set foot in another truck dealership. We made the best of a bad situation, between Mrs. Grumpy reminding me that "Well u have been home for a weeeek now", (like I neeeed reminding) and losing another day of income - we went out to dinner at a local sports bar called Mugs and Jugs. It was karaoke night so we had free "entertainment" with our steak and boneless wings. But now it's the morning after, so to speak. It's Friday. It's raining. Many places around us in FL are flooding 'cause of the "stalled" Fay. Mrs. Grumpy calls me on her way to work asking me if I called the dealership. "It's 8 'o clock, give 'em a call and bug 'em so you can at least get out of here today!" Nooo I did not call the dealership. Hey, can we talk. You know most mornings I get up and I'm "stuck" in the truck. About 15 to 30 minutes later I commute the 2 seconds from the "residence" - the bunk - to the office - my uncomfortable drivers seat. Almost instantaneously I face the world and all it has to "offer." And about 15 hours or so later I reverse the process. So this morning I get out of our "real" bed and within about 5 minutes what seems like the weight of the whole damn world is sitting on my chest. Call the dealership, call the doctor, take out the garbage, deal with my driver manager, put out the dogs, figure out how to get to the dealership, what about a load today, tomorrow?, get the trailer, got to get the stuff like clean clothes in the truck, what about ice - holy shit! This is ridiculous! This is no way to live. I just woke up and I feel like shit. I just want to go in the closet and hide. Ever since I got home last week, I have thought about nothing but the damn truck, getting it started and the crappy seat. Last night in the restaurant I looked around me and said to myself, what do all these people do? They seem to have "normal" lives. They "seem" to have "normal" jobs. But who knows? I know nothing of their reality just as much as they don't appreciate or care about mine. I remember my father who had a heart attack and died at 55. He was two years older than I am now. I remember all the pressure he was under. And all the cups of coffee he would drink. And my mother driving him crazy over nonsense when he got home. And, right now, for me, it's no different. I've become the clown character, pagliacci - pronounced palli ach ee, from the famous Italian opera of the same name - laughing on the outside but dying on the inside. Hang on, Mrs. Grumpy on the cell again wanting to know if I can do (wash & dry) the bed sheets, copy all the passport stuff before she mails it, and do the dogs nails. Gotta go. The photo credit is http://www.mugsnjugs.com/
Friday, August 22, 2008
Pagliacci?
So we leave the KW dealership last night after they did nothing. I really didn't care at that point if I ever saw my truck again. I also would never want to set foot in another truck dealership. We made the best of a bad situation, between Mrs. Grumpy reminding me that "Well u have been home for a weeeek now", (like I neeeed reminding) and losing another day of income - we went out to dinner at a local sports bar called Mugs and Jugs. It was karaoke night so we had free "entertainment" with our steak and boneless wings. But now it's the morning after, so to speak. It's Friday. It's raining. Many places around us in FL are flooding 'cause of the "stalled" Fay. Mrs. Grumpy calls me on her way to work asking me if I called the dealership. "It's 8 'o clock, give 'em a call and bug 'em so you can at least get out of here today!" Nooo I did not call the dealership. Hey, can we talk. You know most mornings I get up and I'm "stuck" in the truck. About 15 to 30 minutes later I commute the 2 seconds from the "residence" - the bunk - to the office - my uncomfortable drivers seat. Almost instantaneously I face the world and all it has to "offer." And about 15 hours or so later I reverse the process. So this morning I get out of our "real" bed and within about 5 minutes what seems like the weight of the whole damn world is sitting on my chest. Call the dealership, call the doctor, take out the garbage, deal with my driver manager, put out the dogs, figure out how to get to the dealership, what about a load today, tomorrow?, get the trailer, got to get the stuff like clean clothes in the truck, what about ice - holy shit! This is ridiculous! This is no way to live. I just woke up and I feel like shit. I just want to go in the closet and hide. Ever since I got home last week, I have thought about nothing but the damn truck, getting it started and the crappy seat. Last night in the restaurant I looked around me and said to myself, what do all these people do? They seem to have "normal" lives. They "seem" to have "normal" jobs. But who knows? I know nothing of their reality just as much as they don't appreciate or care about mine. I remember my father who had a heart attack and died at 55. He was two years older than I am now. I remember all the pressure he was under. And all the cups of coffee he would drink. And my mother driving him crazy over nonsense when he got home. And, right now, for me, it's no different. I've become the clown character, pagliacci - pronounced palli ach ee, from the famous Italian opera of the same name - laughing on the outside but dying on the inside. Hang on, Mrs. Grumpy on the cell again wanting to know if I can do (wash & dry) the bed sheets, copy all the passport stuff before she mails it, and do the dogs nails. Gotta go. The photo credit is http://www.mugsnjugs.com/
