At the apex of good cheer, I stepped out of the gallery for the cooling breeze and hot coffee, where I was offered an opportunity to buy a pack of cigarettes for a gentleman who seemed in dire need of them, and on his birthday no less.
I'm not a cigarette handler so I gave him a bit of cash instead, assuming he could find someone who would accept the money in return for the coffin nails.
A few minutes later, I had a similar offer to unite a man in need with his personal needful--a can of Mountain Dew. What a day! Does it get any better?
It was as if, Sysiphus had been provided with a bulldozer to move that boulder up and down the hill.
And then, Bang! Pop! Pow! Just as I was feeling like saying, This is the life! along came the first of those wicked text messages. The phone lay on the counter too far away for me to see the messenger, and I eyed the thing askance. I think that's the word I'm looking for. It means an untrusting look, to look with suspicion as if expecting something to pop out and bite me in the ankle.
You may recall that it was a text message that started the rannygazoo involving Lupe and my Aunt Maggie. The posting is called, An Aunt's Curse, but I wouldn't bother reading it now--not germane (closely or significantly related; relevant; pertinent).
Had circs been different, not that they ever are, but if they had been different I might have enjoyed an after-dinner saunter down Front Street with Ms. Wonder who was back at the gallery wrestling with canvas prints and cardboard boxes. It's her alternative to working crossword puzzles.
The air was full of warm summer richness. A gentle breeze coming off the river refreshed the spirit, and the sky was probably full of stars. I say probably because they were dimmed by the street lights but I'm sure they were there. Probably.
But to enjoy the gentle night requires a tranquil mind and tranquil was exactly what my mind was not. Not tranquil; full of thoughts about text messages. What to do about them was the question I asked myself.
"Do about what?" asked Ms. Wonder who had shimmered from somewhere up uptown to join me outside Drift Cafe.
"Did I say that out loud? I asked.
She didn't respond to my question. Looking back on it now, I suppose there was no reason for her to elaborate.
"Poopsie," I said. "I've gotten text messages that I'd rather not have gotten."
"I'll bet they're from Crystal Cove, aren't they?" she said.
"You do know everything, don't you?" I said.
"Don't let it worry you now," she said. "The night's too beautiful for worry. Remember that tomorrow is another day and there's always hope in tomorrow.
"That tomorrow is another gag day might have worked for a Broadway play like Wicked," I said, "but it doesn't work in real life."
"I believe you're confusing Wicked and Annie," she said. "But it doesn't matter. Look--forget the text messages, enjoy the evening, and by tomorrow morning your cares will have melted away like snow on the mountaintop."
"But what if they don't melt away?" I said.
"In that case," she said, "you might want to get away to where your troubles can't find you."
"You mean somewhere like Cheers," I said. "Taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot. Like that, right?"
"I was thinking of somewhere like Jamaica, or Australia, or even the United States of America," she said.
"I've heard that Australia's nice," I said.
"See," she said, "you feel better already, don't you?"
Then she put her arm in mine and we sauntered on down Front Street like F. Scott and Zelda living another day in paradise.