This Is What It's Come To

Working to get things back on the road...

Waiting to get x-rays was wildly entertaining. I so very rarely go to the doctors that I couldn't answer even the most simple of questions.

"Do you have your insurance card?" the woman asked me.
I handed her a card.
"That's for your prescriptions," she said.
I tried again.
"That's your Blockbuster card. They're out of business."
One more chance.
"That's it. Now this was a car accident, right? Who do you get your car insurance from?"
"Uncle Jim," I said.

The lady looked at me as if I were the dumbest man on the planet.
"How the hell do I know?" I asked. "I just want x-rays."
"Can you reach your wife? Perhaps she can make sense out of your life."

This is what it has come to. I don't even open my own mail anymore.

And now the car needs to be fixed. I'm telling you, I don't have a single clue as to what to do next.
"Take it for an estimate," someone told me.
Who does that sort of thing? How will I listen to my satellite radio if my car is in the shop? Can I drive it?

"It's pulling hard to the left," my wife said as she drove the car for the first time since the crash. "Didn't you notice that?"
"Well the wheel was turned the wrong way," I said.
"You shouldn't be driving this," she said.
"I won't be able to maneuver my bike in the snow," I replied.

So the week is about to start. The back still smarts. The car pulls hard to the left. We're talking estimates, perhaps a new car. Can we get the satellite radio out, please? That's all I'm asking.

This is what it has come to - I drive around in oblivion of all that spins out of control around me until it smashes into me and makes me pray that others can figure out the mess, turn me around, and put me back on the road.

Ah well, pasta today!