If It’s Yellow, Let It Mellow

Why oh why does a certain well-known coffee chain have, as a rule, one-seater restrooms? In a coffee shop? In a place where people go to have a cup of the brown to get it all movin’ ’round? In a place where some people have a kick-start-shit combo of coffee and a smoke?

That said, I understand a certain need for *ahem* privacy, but what if you need to be in there a really long time? What if you need to be in there and then maybe take a little time to wait for the next wave? And what if you need to get in there right fucking now and some other woman is already in there laying eggs? Or waiting to lay eggs? Come on, ‘Bucks! You’ve got the cash, so pony up already on a double-stall, or even a third, unisex, handicap-accessible “office”, like the one they have at Harris Teeter. We need a backup plan.

You might have guessed by now that I had some gastrointestinal excitement this morning. It ended with me having to use the bathroom at Birdy’s daycare. I don’t mind ” working from the satellite office,” but the bathroom at daycare has two teeny potties, side by side, no divider, and a frigging curtain instead of a door. I understand it wasn’t built for me to go drop a deuce in there, but let’s just say the setting was not ideal.

Everything’s comin’ up Mama Snee
Let me talk for a second about how different my life is today than it was three weeks ago: This morning I got up, got myself and Birdy ready, dropped my car off to get the G-damn driver’s side lock fixed (now playing: Mama Snee’s wide ass on display as she crawls over the passenger side door to unlock the driver’s door by the handle, in the rain) dropped A. off at work, dropped Birdy at daycare. Went to the Bux to sip a beverage, squirrel around with my planner and all of its associated notepads, called my friend who will have a baby any day and had a lovely little chat. Packed it up and drove, in no hurry, to massage school–a place I actually wanted to go. Nice, eh? Nothing earth-shattering, but the sense of dread is lifted and I feel like I’m strolling through my day, whistling, instead of crawling through it, dry-heaving. ‘snice.

A Compact Love
Another reason I have such a sunny outlook today is that I’m driving the CIVIC. It’s almost ten years old, and filthy inside and out, and it still smells like the 700 packs of cigarettes that were smoked in it, pre-quitting, but I LOVE it. It’s the only car I’ve ever chosen by myself, for myself. And I chose wisely, I must say– it’s just the right size,it gets great gas mileage, it’s a breeze to park, it’s a stick shift (which I’ve always been surprisingly good at, like today, eating noodles in a bowl with a fork while driving a stick shift, yeah!), it just… works. And when I push the button to unlock the doors, they ALL unlock. And they never, ever lock unless I tell them to. And I can reach all of the stuff on the passenger seat (and half of the back seat) while I ‘m driving, without having to bury my head below the dash and reach 10 feet to my right just to answer my phone or find a tissue. I love this car.

A word on Evolution:
I’m ready for my third arm, any time. Bring it on. Why haven’t we started sprouting these yet? We are carrying A LOT MORE SHIT than our cro-magnon ancestors. Just today, I walked to my car carrying a totally normal load of items– bag, book, coffee, water bottle, keys– and dropped each of those things at least once on my way. And I look down at my arms and say, “Well how in the hell am I supposed to carry all of this crap with these flabby little things? I’m going to need at least one more.” Add that to my list of demands, I guess. One more arm on my body and one more bathroom at S*bucks.

White Trash Pickup Day
The White Trash Cafe is a restaurant by the fairgrounds that I pass every day on my way to and from my job. Being here, in the mid-south, it’s a little bit funny, okay. But what about all of the other kinds and colors of trash? Are they trying to keep the other trash out? Why you gotta be like that, White Trash Cafe? Or are they trying to keep the white trash in one central, lunch-time location and out of the way of the rest of the neighborhood? Because if that’s the point– rounding up the White Trash and sectioning them off in a cinder-block building– then it seems to be working, but they have a long, long way to go, because as I mentioned, this is the Mid-South, yo.

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