Notice

[I've spilled water all over my desk at work twice in the last two days. This seemingly mundane fact looms large in my imagination, because it seems like everything I touch right now is like that glass of water. I've been cutting Keystone Kop antics in every aspect of my life, pratfalling all over myself and slopping over onto anyone adjacent to me.]

[I think it must've started Monday when my phone was shut off. Things have been hairy in the finances department since...well, 1988, but this latest slough has been going on for a few weeks, at least. I feel like I'm finally turning a corner financially, but there is still catch-up to be played. I got paid yesterday, and the plan was to pay off the phone bill then. When Sprint finally made good on their threats on Monday, therefore, I wasn't too worried. I may be gay, but I can survive two days without a cell phone. Fine.]

[Also on Monday, Allen and I decided to cook dinner together at the house he's watching this month. Before I started seeing Chris, Allen and I were in each other's lives to an extent possibly unhealthy for "just friends," but that has subsided in the last few months. Nothing wrong with that, but I do still get frequent hankerings for time with him apart from his lovely housemates over at Casa de Dolores. The rendezvous failed to happen, partially because Allen can be a little haphazard about keeping in contact, and partially because I forgot to tell him my phone was temporarily not with us. (He has no cell phone, for which, despite what I wrote above, we're all ready to revoke his Homosexual Club Card.) Fine. We rescheduled.]

[Tuesday was Valentine's Day, and it didn't go as hoped. That's a story for another day (and probably another place), but Wednesday morning saw me stagger hungover, depressed, and distracted to the ATM near the Powell cable car turnaround, get some cash, and leave my card in the machine. I didn't discover this unhappy fact until the afternoon when I attempted to to pay my phone bill and the card wasn't in my wallet. I got a lift to the bank branch, they didn't have it, so I had it cancelled and ordered a new one. It's supposed to arrive tomorrow. Fine.]

[OK, so it's today. I'm without an ATM card, a photo ID (I still haven't gotten around to replacing my lost driver's license; my passport's somewhere in this pigsty of an apartment, but don't ask me where), a functioning cell phone, or much love. Bloodied but unbowed, I made my way to work, where I had one of those thumb-fingered days where nothing wanted to go right. I had to do every task twice, I spilled the aforementioned water all over a purchase order, and I banged my shin on an open filing cabinet. Fine. No, it's not fine!]

[My parents were going to be blowing into town one of these days for their fortieth wedding anniversary. I couldn't remember what day they were checking into their hotel, but by the end of the workday, I needed my mommy. So I hopped the 27 Bryant bus toward downtown, hoping to catch them where they're staying. (At least I still have my Fast Pass.) I was gazing moodily out the scratched plastic window at Fifth Street's late-afternoon parade of humanity when we pulled up at Mission.]

[For the first time, I looked at who else was on the bus with me. This Chinese woman, about fifty years old, was detaching her wheelchair from the area on the bus reserved for wheechairs. She had a big smile on her face, not a Cousin Jeri-esque contortion, but an intelligent, sane grin. The smile just widened when the smelly wino next to her offered to help her move toward the front where the ramp was waiting to deposit her onto the sidewalk. Quickly, cheerfully, and competently, she refused the wino's help, debarked, and rolled herself away.]

[The woman's obvious air of just getting on with life could've made me feel like a self-pitying schmuck. Similar tableaux certainly have had that effect on me in the past. But this time, I shared her smile, got off the bus one stop later, and used my beautiful, healthy legs to walk up to the hotel. I may have whistled, I don't know. Mom and Dad were on their way out to dinner, but I had time to give each of them big, perfectly executed hugs before their taxi took off down Post Street.]

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