Living In Richard Scarry's Busytown

Busy day.  

I woke four times last night. The fifth time I woke it was 7:15, and the dogs were restless.  I dressed and took them downstairs to go outside (yes, I am back upstairs sleeping in my bed). I used to enjoy the quiet solitude of early rising. There is less of quiet than rest these days.  The dogs frolicked (Okay, Willow frolicked, Buddy just doesn't move much nor fast) in the yard, relieved themselves, and raced back into rhe house for breakfast.  Willow is on a special diet of rice, beef and some kibble, because of course she is.  She barks with excitement (or to move me along) as I prepare this goulash.  As soon as they finish eating, Buddy's routine is to run to the door and ring the bell. He didn't disappoint this morning.  I again let them out, sans leash. Willow ran the length of the yard, circling the picnic table, and did it again for good measure.  As she was running up the hill toward the door, she saw a woman and her 4 tiny dogs. She did a course correction and it was yesterday redux.  When I finally had hold of her she struggled all the way back to the house.  I kept her on a leash for the rest of the daylight hours.  I was mortified.

Jane, Mike, Sarah and Hannah came for an early brunch. I cooked for them and got to serve them homemade applesauce.  

Jenny and Abby left for the Mariner's game around 1130, Leiney drove them.  I finished cleaning the kitchen and ran to the grocery store.  I got lost trying to find my way, but eventually made it to Safeway.  After I parked, I looked out the front passenger side window to see a plague of more than a hundred pigeons surrounding an immaculate black SUV 4 or 5 spots away. The SUV'S driver passenger doors were wide open, looking as if it were a giant bird.  The interior of the car must have held 8 or nine pigeons, on the dashboard, headrests, seats and floor. I was thinking about getting my blood checked to see if I had vicariously absorbed enough THC from second-hand smoke to be high, when from around the back of the car comes a tall 40-something blond dude with pigeons on his shoulders, arms and hands, live pigeons.  An older guy  stood a few feet from my car, smoking a cigarette and looking unimpresses but curious about this birdman. Birdman climbed into the cab of his car, Im not sure why. As he was sitting down, I realized the reign rain of terror this plague could deposit on my car, and moved it away from this spectacle. I didn't take a picture, not sure why.

There may have been the hand (errrr, wing?) of the bird god Garuda in this.  The man's vehicle had no bird droppings on it, none.  

I bought stuff to make lasagna, and other stuff, and headed home.  Leiney and I hung out for some time. She is doing great.  I helped a bit with her homework, and we talked and talked. At the bottom of the 8th, Jenny texts Leiney  and I and asks to be picked up. Leiney says she is going to do it and leaves.  

If there is one thing you should know about Leiney is she has no sense of direction, and tends (like my mother) to drive like Mr. Magoo.  Seriously.  Leiney, I learn from Jenny, was lost in West Seattle, somehow managing to traverse the bridge, far from the stadium and Atlantic Street where Jenny and Abby were waiting to be picked up.  

Mind you, this is where it all goes cattywampus. Jenny says to me, 'I thought you were picking us up.  I was surprised that Leiney is."  I replied, "We never discussed this, so how was I to know you wanted me to come get you. Had you asked, I would have happily done so."  I admit, happily gilds the lily, but I would have picked them up.  

No matter.  Jenny is actually angry with me.  She asks me to come get them.  I agree and call Leiney, who inexplicably is heading south, but telling me she is 5 minutes away from Jenny. I tell her to call me in 5 if she hasnt arrived, put my shoes on, crate the dogs, grab the keys and head to the garage.

As I walk toward the car, Leiney calls, the sound of defeat in her voice, and instructs me to go. I climb in the car plug my phone into a charger (it said it was at 11%) and get directions from google to Atlantic Street as the garage door is opening. No sooner have I backed into the driveway when my phone dies. Dead. The car charger is a slow charger. Where the fuck is Atlantic Street.  I have to wing it.

Fun fact, there are never police on East Marginal on Sundays.  I flew up to the downtown area with a plan.  I will drive to King Street and circle back down 1st.  Mariner traffic is hell. My phone is dead and this is the best I got.  It took 20 minutes for my phone to hit 2 percent.  I turned it on and called Jenny. When I told her where I was, turning onto King Street, she lost it again, "Why did you go past the stadium?" I tell her about my phone dying, she tells me there is a charger in the car, I tell her I am using it.  Also, I am now pissed. I am doing the best I can. It isn’t raining or freezing--they will be okay--and I had never planned this being part of my day.

My plan worked, I found Atlantic Street and picked them up. We essentially had the same argument right after she got into the car and acted surprised Inwas upset. Excerpted from a text exchange today:

"I guess I don't think I  always have to ask."

Ummmmm.  .  . Am I wrong to call this unreasonable? She never asked. Moreover, she had arranged Leiney to take them without telling or discussing the plan with me. Then she texted both of us as part of a group text saying she was ready to be picked up. Leiney believed she was picking Jenny and Abby up. Maybe because this was the plan. Nah, too simple. But, as soon as there is a hitch in the get-a-long, motherfucker if it isn't  my fault.  

 

A fella can dream, and if you are going to dream, dream big. This behavior, this unwritten and unspoken set of ever changing expectations, I thought we dealt with this.  

Ultimately, we all got home. My plan on finding the place without a map worked, without a need to turn around or backtrack. I feel pretty good about it.  As a reward to myself, I came home and made a vegetarian lasagna for dinner, with a simple sauce that is so good they should bottle it and sell it as an antidote for anger and frustration.

Good night.  MRI in the morning. I predict it has healed and I the pain will be attributed to a tendon and PT will be prescribed.