Monday, 23 November 2015

(Si me ven, si me ven, voy camino de Belen.)

Today I sit in the Doctor's office for an extra, unnecessary hour after my appointment time has passed, trapped by endless commercial-free Christmas music, texting with both Batman and Caleb while I wait. While my brain screams from the unwelcome assault of tinny, crappily-recorded questionably-Christmasy songs.

Half of them are in Spanish.

All of them are too soon.

Caleb wants to know if there is going to be any recidivism on PJ's part. I reminded him there's been no punishment, only swift disapproval and that this whole matter is none of Caleb's business.

Batman wants to know if Caleb is minding his own business and if I need anything. Anything at all.

I need my appointments to be on time. I need to blare the Christmas music to everyone else so that I don't have to listen to it anymore. I need Monday to be over. I need to learn to be a better parker. I just lost my grocery shopping time sitting here listening to El Burrito Sabanero and I vow to put my headphones in my purse so that I never have to do this again.

I text Ben and ask if he will save me. He texts back that that is Sam's job and he is merely an angel of the lord Samuel.

They made up and he's being cheeky. That's good.

Oh God. Rodolfo El Reno. This one makes my ears bleed. I text Lochlan and ask if he will save me. He doesn't reply. He's building a network for Batman somewhere. I hate computers. I don't know how to use them much save for someone planting me in front of a game of Half Life 2:  Deathmatch over the weekend, where I won a game and then got learned hard. It's like Quake 3: Arena only you can throw objects and set trip mines and the maps are more detailed.

Otherwise it's precisely the same and I love it.

Wish I had a gravity gun right now, I'd pick up Christmas and move it back to after American Thanksgiving, instead of before, at the very least. To buy myself a few extra weeks of Christmas-free existence instead of having it shove right in after Halloween disappears, leaving a space behind in the calendar that Christmas is determined to fill, Latin donkeys and all.

Oh, they just called my name. Bye.