I should have known something was up when I discovered, AFTER I GOT BACK HOME, that I had gone into a crowded restaurant with my pants on inside out. I’ll just add that to the list of stupid things I have done.
I spent the rest of the day with my entertaining, talented and fashionable granddaughter, Maddie.
My husband, Glenn, left shortly after lunch to meet our son, Jeremy, at the Rogers Centre, formerly the Skydome, for the Toronto Blue Jays and Baltimore Orioles Wild Card game.
When Maddie took her afternoon nap, I got comfy in my La-Z-Boy office and opened up my laptop to see what was going on in the world. I have been caught up in the American Presidential Race so I checked on who was saying what in Twitter Land and on CNN. (You may need to stage an intervention when the election is over.)
Next, I viewed my email, my blog stats and visited my Facebook friends. As I scrolled down the page, my eyes spied an item on “Bobcaygeon Buy and Sell.” It was exactly what I was looking for ― two beautiful light blue chairs in pristine condition for $25 each. The chairs would be a perfect addition to our freshly painted den. The seller lived just a few kilometres from my house. Definitely a win-win. Meant to be.
I contacted the lady immediately and asked if I could send her an e-transfer to pay for the chairs and pick them up tomorrow because Glenn would be home. She preferred cash so I agreed to take the money to her after dinner. Like many of my friends, I rarely carry cash which meant I had to go into town to the BMO ATM to withdraw the money.
I knew I was going to be home alone for the evening so I stopped for a treat ― a small container of Kawartha Dairy’s Moosetracks® ice cream.
I was ready to deliver the money to an address on Kennedy Drive. Away I went, with a smile on my face and money in hand. I turned onto Kennedy Drive and drove and drove and drove. I must have missed it so I drove back out to the highway and started all over. Still no luck. Perhaps I had not gone far enough last time. I kept going. The pavement ended. The road grew narrower. The trees were brushing against the sides of the van. It was growing dark and I was feeling a little nervous.
And before I knew what was happening, a splinter of psychosis reared its ugly head and whispered,
“Melda, maybe you have been set up. Don’t you know the world is a wicked, vile place? You should be more suspicious of people. There could be a biker gang waiting to kidnap you and hold you ransom. Is there even any cell phone service way out here? Do you realize they could bury you in cement and dump you in the middle of Lake Ontario under the cover of darkness, never to be found ― you know, kinda like Jimmy Hoffa?”
And for a time I believed this nonsense. Feeling rattled, I searched for a safe place to turn around. The last thing I needed was to get stuck in the ditch in the middle of nowhere. I could feel my heart beating faster, my muscles tensing, panic setting in and it was getting darker quickly. I had to get out of there ― NOW.
My phone dingled alerting me that I had a text message. It was the seller of the chairs. Was there a possibility I was on the wrong Kennedy Road on Highway 36? WHAT? Two Kennedy Roads? I looked at the correct address―it said Kennedy Bay Road. I had not noticed it said “KENNEDY BAY ROAD” Where, pray tell, was that?
When I got back to main road, I pulled over and consulted Google Maps. I had gone kilometres and kilometres in the WRONG direction. It would take at least an hour to reach Kennedy Bay Road, but I really wanted those chairs. I hadn’t driven far until I had a change of heart. Disgusted with the whole fiasco, I pulled over and contacted the seller to tell her I had changed my mind because of the distance involved. I would check tomorrow to see if they were still available.
In about five minutes, I heard the familiar ding of a text message. Sure enough, someone else had already delivered the money and picked up the chairs. No blue chairs for Melda this time. Too bad. So sad.
I hurried back home, put on my jammies, got settled in my La-Z-Boy office, turned on CNN to watch the
American Vice-Presidential Debate and prepared to enjoy my Moosetracks® ice cream. As you can imagine, it was more like a Moosetracks® milk shake with a snowball in the centre. I ate it anyway.
One thing is certain, from now on I will double check my clothes before I go out the door. On second thought, nah, why bother? It may never happen again in my lifetime. It’s like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted.
Oh well, it could have been worse. I could have had a pair of bloomers stuck to my behind or pantyhose in the leg of my pants and dragging behind me or had a long trail of toilet paper stuck to my shoe. Hey, I could have forgotten to put my pants on!
Well, gentle readers, it is 1:25 a.m.
The debate is over, and it would seem that Mike Pence beat Tim Kaine, but it will be rehashed and analyzed for days. The ballgame is over and the Blue Jays won the Wild Card spot. Woot! Woot! Glenn and Jeremy are trying to get out of downtown Toronto.
As for me, I’m going to brush my teeth and go to bed before I turn into a pumpkin or worse ― the dreaded zucchini.