I woke up late. No, wait. That’s a lie. I woke up on time, and thought, “Oh, just five minutes,” and snuggled back down. And slept for another hour. I blame the rain. There’s nothing so soporific as hearing the dripping of the rain outside and being in a warm, safe, snuggly bed.

So. At 7:45 I catapulted out of bed, ran through the shower, grabbed my umbrella, remembered my book, looked again for my umbrella, couldn’t find it, left without it, and thanked heaven in an absent-minded way that I totally knew where the first car was parked.

I started getting calls from the Co-op right outside my door, and had to run back inside, dodge the cat, get a pen, and write down what David wanted. Mole Hill truck is in the alley north of Davie, behind the apple market. Right. Goddit. Wrote it down. A minute later he calls back. Can I shuffle the cars at Electric Avenue? I’m crouched down in the rain and writing on my sodden paper, propped on my knee. Right. Electric Avenue. Goddit. Smart Car from stall 65 to 67. The M5 in 67 to 68. Okay. Okay. Board the bus clutching sodden paper in my mouth, bus pass and pen in one hand and cell phone in the other.

I totally didn’t know where the first car was. After ten minutes of wandering around in the rain, I finally found it exactly where it was supposed to be. I was looking one block west. Go, me. Get the car. Stop home. Find umbrella where I picked up book. Proceed to Tremblay. My beloved Tremblay Motors crew are chipper, they’ve been at work for almost two hours. I act breezy instead of sodden and zip out downtown.

Electric Avenue cars get shifted and I book over to the alley behind Davie, wondering who else has a legit job skulking in alleys. As I park the truck I wonder for a second. Did I remember deodorant? Um. No. I could continue on my merry and increasingly fragrant way, but I’m in the alley behind John and Arwen’s house. Pull out phone.

Me: Hey John!
John: Hey, what’s up.
Me: Nothing. But I AM going to ask you the strangest question you’re going to hear all month.
John: (unflappably) Okay.
Me: Can I borrow your wife’s deodorant? I’m right outside.
John: (laughs) Okay.

That’s why it’s good to have good friends. With sympathetic husbands, to boot.

6 Comments to “Frazzled.”

  1. By Arwen, May 13, 2008 @ 8:58 pm

    I love this story.
    I was, until this moment, utterly unaware of it, and I love that even more.

  2. By rachel, May 13, 2008 @ 10:01 pm

    Hahaha! My sister and I have a running joke about how I always used to borrow her deodorant when I would come home from college, and to this day, if I remember to do it, I will borrow her deodorant whenever the occasion presents itself.

  3. By Liz, May 13, 2008 @ 11:03 pm

    Arwen, I knew you wouldn’t mind. Plus, your deodorant smells like Hello Kitty erasers. Cool!

    Rachel, the borrowing of the deodorant is powerful stuff. My little brother used to get seriously mad if I borrowed his.

  4. By Gecko Bloggle, May 14, 2008 @ 9:44 am

    As far as being unflappable, it’s a side-effect of working in IT for presidents of large video game companies. Most of the phone calls I got at my desk started with “You’re probably going think I’m insane, but…”

  5. By Liz, May 14, 2008 @ 2:54 pm

    I guess a request for deodorant was less WTF than a lot of things those guys might ask for.

  6. By Stephanie, May 15, 2008 @ 7:10 am

    I forget deodorant a lot. I usually have two or three things of them floating around my house because I always have to stop to buy more.

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