Notes from the Road
Part Seven: Des Moines
I woke up early this morning in my Air B and B to pee and saw what I thought was a dried leaf on the kitchen floor. It didn’t make sense. I was fairly certain it wasn’t there when I went to bed. And the trees are pretty bare in this eternal winter. It was a mouse. It was a dead mouse. It was on its back. It might as well have had its tongue lolling out with little black Xes over its eyes. Like it came home from the bar really late and couldn’t find its apartment and stumbled around my kitchen for a while until it just keeled over and died. I went back to bed and dreamt of dead mice and my ex-husband.
Yesterday I got $5 in quarters to do my laundry. $2 for the wash and $2 for the dryer. Today, once my wash was done, I moved my clothes into the machine next to the washer, put in my $2 of quarters, closed the door and started manipulating the dials. It wasn't until the water started flowing into the machine that I realized I had put my washed clothes into another washer. Now I have wet clothes and 25 cents too little to dry them.
Not a terrific day so far, folks.
Though I will say the palm oil free hazelnut spread that I found at the local over-priced market is making things tolerable. Same great flavor, now with fewer dead monkeys!
Also, I saw a really hot person at said over-priced market and it highlighted the fact that I still have no idea how to talk to attractive people. I just gasped and then browsed near them until they left. Smooth.
I left my laptop in the women’s restroom at the Des Moines airport.
The details are not worth going into. Suffice it to say, I was NOT using my laptop ON a public toilet, as some have suggested. I just had it in my hand when I went into the stall and didn’t have it in my hand when I came out of the stall. I had been up since 4 am, been on three flights and in four different airports. I wasn’t particularly focused. However, I had finally finished writing the first draft of a pilot on my flight from Seattle that I’d been ruminating on for months. And I didn’t want to pay the $6.95 for internet access to upload it to the great hard drive in the sky. Also, my phone did some random update and dumped all my pictures onto my Google drive. So, if someone can get into the computer, they’re going to have access to some compromising material. Hell, maybe it’ll finally be my ticket to fame and fortune.
Kurt called yesterday to tell me that Monty is now registered for Kindergarten. Kindergarten.
Kindergarten was where I learned to hate school. Miss Mooney, my teacher, was sharp and cold and screamed at me for coloring something in “wrong.” For show and tell I brought in a ziplock bag of deer poop I had collected on my latest hiking trip with my dad, and a classmate, Robin brought her pompoms in and chanted “Two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate? Miss Mooney! Miss Mooney! Yaaaaaaay, Miss Mooney!” Robin could speak for herself, I thought. I was on to those lemmings and this broken system from the jump. This was back when public school teachers could still hit children and did so regularly. I escaped that school before first grade and avoided a teacher who locked students in the closet if they misbehaved. I took my deer poop and hightailed it out of there.
Monty will love Kindergarten. Right?