Chirky

Today I ventured out from my cubicle, determined to make a grocery store run and to go home for lunch. This trip generally takes me only ten minutes. Fifteen minutes into my drive home, and still less than half a mile from my office, I decided to take the highway instead of the back roads.

First mistake.

As I sped up the on-ramp, I quickly realized everyone was stopped. I slowed, pulled close behind the Lexus in front of me, and waited.

And … waited.

And … waited.

Then my car started to overheat. Overheat! On the highway. On a ramp. Where I couldn't go anywhere, or do anything about it, except just sit there.

I turned my car off. And thirteen seconds later, the car in front of me started moving, so I turned mine back on again. And I drove ten feet, and then turned my car off. Again. This continued for the next half hour, during which I called Roger every time there was a new development:

"I'm running out of gas!"

"My car is overheating!"

"I can't go anywhere!"

"I'm stuck on the highway!"

"The jerk won't let me over!"

"Can you charter a helicopter with extreme magnetic sucking power? And it could just suction me up and carry me away? Please?"

"I keep turning off my car! Do you think it will help the overheating?"

"I'm thinking of just parking my car on the highway and walking back to work. Do you think that would be a bad idea?"

"I just coasted down the on-ramp and my brakes locked up. I forgot I turned off my car!"

"Do you think it's overheating because we took it to get inspected & have the oil changed, and they didn't replace the coolant? I mean, it's 75 degrees outside. It's hot."

"I was able to exit. Do you know how to get to the grocery store from Blackburn and McKinney? I don't know where to go."

"Nevermind. I found it."

By the time I got to the grocery store and grabbed the two (TWO) items I needed - plus coolant and a six-pack of bottled water that was on sale for 88 cents (I know! How can you pass that up?), okay, fine: I also had some sushi and pistachios in my basket, only because they looked good and I was hungry - it had been over an hour since I left the office. And still, I had ventured less than three miles away.

Not wanting to deal with people any longer, I guided myself to the self-checkout, the lanes created for people who (a) are really impatient or (b) always kinda wondered what it felt like to be the grocery store cashier and sacker, and I started scanning my items.

I finished, fished in my purse for my wallet, and glanced at the line of impatient people who were gathering behind me.

And then I realized: I left my wallet at work.

I left the grocery store, defeated, and called Roger with the last development.

And then I died*.

*Not really, but I kind of wanted to, because I had been on the road for an hour and a half and had nothing to show for it except an empt[ier] gas tank, no radiator coolant, no groceries, no lunch, and no money. And an impossibly bad hair day.