Is there such a thing as the wrong side of the bed?
Tuesday morning: I have to be in class by 10 a.m. Generally, it takes 20-25 minutes for me to drive from my place to school, three to eight minutes to find parking, and about two or three minutes to get to whichever class I’m going to.
I should have left the house by 9:25 at the latest, but I didn’t roll out of bed til 9:15, because I’d stayed up til 5 a.m. working on articles and stories for the paper. I took some coffee (even though I rarely drink it), but of course the only to-go mug we had didn’t have a lid or a top. As I ran outside, I spilled it all over my hand. I just knew the day was off to the wrong start.
I wasn’t in my car until about 9:40. And of course, as I turned my engine on, it sputtered and took a couple extra turns. Of course, my gas light was on, because of course, I always put off filling up my tank until it gets down to the last drop. Very wise. And convenient, when you’re already running late for school. To top it off, I was supposed to bring in an article for my class. I e-mailed a couple to myself and I intended to print them when I arrived. Now I wouldn’t have time for that!
As I stopped at a red light, I contemplated if I could make it the seven miles. When I tried to accelerate again, I could feel the car struggling. The last thing I needed was to be stranded on the west side of Chicago, walking through Austin to fill up a stupid little gas can, so I pulled into the next station I came across, cursing myself for sleeping in for those extra couple minutes, which never help anyway. I put a gallon or two in (for times’ sake) and sped back onto the road.
As I drove through the west side ghettos and into the bourgie Oak Park neighborhoods, I was becoming anxious–but realized I’d probably only be about five minutes late, which still sucks. Anyone who knows me knows I am not the most punctual individual, but I haven’t been late to any of my morning classes so far.
Driving up to the campus, there was ONE open parking spot on the street for me, right in front of the building I had to be in. It was 9:56 when I parallel parked, and 9:58 when I walked into Lewis Hall. Right by the front door was a stack of Red Eye papers, and I KNEW there would be an article I could use for class in it. I ran up the three flights of stairs and was in class at 10:00 on the dot.
How that was possible is beyond me, considering I departed late and had to get gas. But I love when things work out so nicely.
The rest of the evening was great too. I got home and Angelique decided to join me on the acoustic show excursion–Treaty of Paris was playing their entire new record, Sweet Dreams, Sucker, at Rolling Stone, unplugged. We didn’t leave her house on the south side until about 6:40, and I was worried we’d miss them (because we ALWAYS used to miss shows when we were younger), but as we walked in, the band was just taking the stage. Perfecto!
It was so good to be at an acoustic show with her, drinking spiked lemonade out of a water bottle, because that’s what we used to do all the time and it was just fitting.
Hearing the gorgeous acoustic guitars brought back memories of when we used to play guitar all day and night. We tried to figure out what kind Danny was playing because it sounded so pretty, and it looked like it said Gallagher on the headstock but we couldn’t tell. Anyway, the show was fun, Ange reunited with Chad and Scott, and Estelle’s afterward with Lorene Drive and everyone else was a blast. Gotta love $2 Blue Moons!
‘Twas a good day and a good night, although I thought it was off to a bad start.
A wise old man once told me, “Things always work out for the best, even if it seems far from it now.”
So why worry?
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