December 02, 2005

11:44 p.m.

Paper or Plastic, Or Will You Just Eat It Here?

It was the Day of Irritated Driving and Consistent Red Lights. The dentist's office called in the morning to ask if I could come in 50 minutes earlier. That severely changed my morning plans, but I said I would. Got out the door a couple of minutes late, and swore the whole way behind an 18-wheeler and a cement truck. Pulled into the parking lot at exactly the minute I was supposed to arrive.

On the way I saw a by-George ringnecked pheasant by the side of the road, poking around among the brush. It was so bright it almost didn't look real. It was like when you see a celebrity in the cafe and say, "Hey! You look just like your picture!"

I was fitted for my mouthguard and out of there within 15 minutes. I hadn't had time to load out my instruments, so I went ahead home and had lunch before heading out to rehearsal, slightly calmer than before.

I didn't want to go, that was the problem.

On the way I did the Toyota errand, and when I arrived at the band's house and pulled in the driveway, I heard singing. There's a cemetery down the street and up a hill from their house, which is mostly hidden when the trees are in leaf, but now is just visible. There were a lot of cars parked up there, and a line of people walking down the path singing something that sounded like Ladysmith Black Mambazo meets Southern Gospel. It was beautiful and strange and sirenlike, drifting from so far away, unintelligible but captivating. I stood in the driveway for a couple of minutes straining to catch words.

Inside, I persuaded Chris to exchange the pickups in two of my guitars. While he was doing that I went to the post office to mail out some CDs. It was snow squalling out of a partly sunny sky, big wet flakes that melted on the road. When I got to the P.O. I realized I'd left my purse at their house, so had to go back and do it all over again. Bloomfield has the longest red light in Connecticut, and I got to sit at it four times. By the fourth time it was no longer snowing, but sunny and cold.

Rehearsal was okay; I think we were all sleepy. But we worked some, and had a phone interview with a North Adams paper for an upcoming gig. The writer hadn't actually heard any of our music, so we had to explain from scratch what we do. Eventually we got through almost everything we needed to do, and by then it was going on 7:00 and we were hungry and done.

I stopped at the grocery for some ground turkey and frozen green beans. I just about never eat frozen vegetables, but everything there was $2.99 a pound and I REFUSE to pay that for zucchini.

Zoomed home and made gorgeous turkey burgers and was talking to Steve when I realized I'd never picked up the needle from Rose's house.

After several minutes of saying encouraging and friendly things like, "Fuck me!" and "Shit! Shit!!" I decided I had to drive back there and get it. My gigs the next two days are in the opposite direction and I'll be danged if I'm waiting for that size 7! So that's what I did.

And I forgot my purse.

********

May I just ask, here, what happened to the conservationist attitude of the 70s? Where we all tried very hard not to use excess plastic? Just because plastic is recyclable does not mean we can be wasteful of it. Recycling still pollutes. I bought one package of ground turkey, one package of green beans, and one box of mini-Christmas lights. I watched the cashier put the lights into one bag and roll it all up. I said, "You can put everything in one bag." Then she put the turkey and beans in another bag and rolled that up, and put those two bags into one bag so that it would all be... in one bag, as I'd requested. Are they taught to bag this way? Why do I have to get out a manual to explain that I want only ONE plastic bag, period? I don't care if my Christmas lights box touches the turkey package. Everything is already packaged.

What I have to do is instill in myself the habit of bringing my own bags. No excuses.

Dang, it's bedtime again. That came too fast.