Here’s a snapshot of my life for you: I woke up in a tent around 8 a.m. There might have been bugs crawling all over me, not sure. You know how sometimes the skin just tingles? It wasn’t unpleasant. I wanted to get to a coffee house first thing in the morning to tell my editor about all the neurotic, last minute changes I wanted to make to my essay before it moved to the printer.
I took the long way to City Brew for some reason, and it was a fateful mistake. I turned over the two items in my head: “2 cats not 3. Cut out the part that makes me sound like a hooker. 2 cats not 3, cut out the hooking…” and then there are flashing lights behind me. If you’ve never been pulled over by a cop on a bicycle at 9 in the morning, let me be the first to tell you through earth-shattering prose what that’s like: It’s real weird!
He was all, “You ran a stop sign.” and I was like “I’VE GOT A LOT ON MY MIND RIGHT NOW, OFFICER.” He doesn’t care, and anyway, I didn’t actually say that. He wanted to see my ID. It took me a few minutes to find my passport in my backpack. “I may or may not have my passport with me…” I said, but then I found it.
“Do you have a driver’s licence in Michigan or Montana?”
“Neither.”
He wrote me a ticket. I had to just stand there on my bike for 10 minutes without coffee while he wrote me out a ticket. He came back to ask what my home address was, and I was all, “52 Tent Street Avenue, Apartment #I live in a stranger’s backyard, Missoula, MT.” What I actually said was “I’m in between homes.” I gave him my PO Box. He handed me the ticket and I started crying. Tactical error. You’ve got to cry before he does all the paperwork.
Anyway. I hope he feels really bad about himself. My boss changed the number of cats but wouldn’t budge on the line that I worry makes it seem like I’m a hooker.
This place about to blow. I don’t know. I’m sick of thinking about it. I’m busy. I’m really, really busy this summer. You know what they say: Get busy living, or get busy blogging.
No one has ever said that.
If your next story involves multiple cats and any sort of hooking, I’m all for it. I will be your writing cheerleader no matter how many stop signs you blow through on your bike.
Come back to Austin! It will be nice in the fall.
Just read the independent article.
It made me think of that twitter post you took down about ineffectual men acting like their life is an accident. ( or something like that).
Intuition tells me there is a connection between the ineffectual man and: “I only want to crawl into laps that won’t have me”
It’s 51 street tent ave; 52 is across the street. . .