Idiosycratic Life

Why am I Ziggy? I am Ziggy, the hapless cartoon character with a lot of pets for whom nothing ever goes right.

I got a "1/3 of the way through" critique. Overall, it was positive. One of the things "people" have noticed is that I seem "stressed," and as a result "quite scattered.". Do I? DO I? For crying out loud, I simply can't imagine WHY. Can't go into the reasons why here, but there are some damn good ones, I assure you. I shared them with my mentor who promised to help. Some things she has no control over, but we made a list of ten things (TEN!- all things I have already mentioned to the appropriate people who take care of such things one more than one occasion) that she is going to help me get fixed.

And I am just in a spiral of bad luck. Today, I prepared to arrive at work early- cool, calm and collected- to turn over a new leaf and show how together, unscattered, and full of inner poise I am. Twenty minutes before I am due at work, (and I didn't hit anything or swerve or even speed- I was doing a poised, calm and collected 55 mph, thank you very much) my tire explodes (EXPLODES) on the highway. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Call AAA, call Toyota dealership, tell them I am coming in, but they say "hurry, they close in an hour." I called AAA-can you please hurry? Ten minutes later, Felix (tow truck driver) shows up, God bless him.

But he attaches my car to the tow truck thingy wrong. I thought it looked odd (having just been towed to this same dealership two weeks ago for a *different* flat tire), but I assume this is his job, and it's probably right, and we need to get a move on, right? Everyone is honking at us on the highway. He pulls over. He unattaches the car, does a three point turn with his big-@ss tow truck that blocks three lanes of a four lane high way at 4:42 on a holiday weekend, (Major honking at this point) reattaches my car the right way, and blocks two lanes of traffic on a four lane highway at 4:47 on a holiday weekend (Honking? Yes, it's deafening; why do you ask?) pulling back out.

Meanwhile, I frantically call the Toyota dealer, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE-stay-open-all-I-need-is-a-new-tire-I'm-so-so-sorry-we-would-be-there-but-Feliz-attached-mycar-backwards-and-I'm-a-photojournalist-
and-I-just-moved-here-and-I-have-to-shoot-the-Marlins-game-at-seven-and-
I-don't-have-any-friends-or-family-whose-car-I-could-borrow-and-I-know-it's-
Saturday-evening-and-a-holiday-weekend-and-I-hate-to-ask-this-but-otherwise-I-have-
to-take-a-cab-to-the-other-side-of-Miami-and-ohmygodohmygod-please-could-you-
please-try? (Inner poise, anyone?)

Anyway, Felix delivers me and my poor car at 4:55. They agree to fix it for me. I run around hugging all the mechanics. Twenty minutes and $45 later, I am on my way.

And that's the latest installment of "Hysterical White Girl in Miami." Stay tuned next week when HWG goes to the Big Apple for her "chat" with Human Resources!