crazy%20woman%2001I’ll preface this post by letting you in on a little secret.  I am NOT a patient person.  No, really, i’m not.  Seroiusly.  In fact, some people have said that i’m one of the most impatient people they’ve ever met.  I try to chill.  I’ve read a plethora of “self-help” books and talked to people about my problem.  I got into t’ai chi and tried meditating (i got too frustrated that i couldn’t still my mind, which made me more impatient, so i quit). Nothing has made a lasting difference.

OK, so the cat’s outta the bag.  So where am i going with this revelation? Well, when HK and i were on our cross-country trip from Atlanta to Vancouver,  our friend Glenn loaned us his mobile XM radio.  Man, that was a lifesaver.  For a while, at least.  After the first day, it decided to get cranky.  Every time i’d try to change the channel (HK was getting tired of listening to ’70’s music all the time), it would just stop working. Seriously, every time i picked it up, i’d get a little static, then the silent treatment.

“AAAAARRRRRGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” i’d scream and shake it up and down, back and forth.  “WORK, damn you!”

“Give it to me” HK would say, rolling his eyes. “You are the most impatient person i’ve ever met”, he said, laying the radio on his lap.

And just like that, Dave Matthews would be singing.  “Crash, into me…..”

“Baby likes to be held”, HK said in a quiet, fatherly tone. So as long as “Baby” was in HK’s lap, all was fine. As soon as i wanted to check out new channels, tho (i don’t like HK to play with electronics or his iphone while driving), Baby would cough up a little static, spit it in my lap, and promptly quit working again. Believe me, if this little hand-held box the size of a pack of cigarettes belonged to me, the little sonofabitch would have taken flight on I-24 somewhere between Nashville and  St. Louis.  But Baby is not my baby, and knowing that she had to be returned (or replaced, and my 2nd little secret is that i am a tightwad), i was forced to endure her moodiness.

not my baby

not my baby

For the sake of saving space, we had cleared out our cd collection, and for the sake of  saving $$, (read-cheap) we had a piece of shit radio in our car that couldn’t pick up any decent stations. I began to resent Baby. I felt that she was mocking me. You mock me, and i will not be mocked.

You Mock Me

You Mock Me

I caught myself giving her the evil-eye.  At one point i wrapped her up in a rag (the “just-in-case vomit rag” we had packed for the dogs) and banishing her to the trunk.

“Where’s baby?” HK asked after a pee-break in South Dakota.

“No idea” i replied, altho HK knows me and my intolerance for things that mock me. He checked the trunk and pulled her out, unwrapped her swaddling clothes, laid her in his lap and and plugged her in.  Queen’s Somebody to Love came on.

“Baby likes to be held”.