Sunday morning I had my alarm set for five AM. Dad woke me up after the sun was up and I flipped out. I freak out when I wake up and the first chunk of information that starts my day collides with the last piece of information from the day before. I dressed up for my mom, not church. Easter is just another Sunday. I doubt that there is anyone who could convince me that it’s genuinely a important day to them. I won’t go into a rant about that now. Maybe later. I went to church with mom and dad, Courtney ad Ray met us there. The service kept my attention, but didn’t mark my mind enough that I could recall a single thing about it. Back home, Hillary and Adrian showed up. I was led to believe there would be extended family attending for lunch, so I had time to play video games to kill the time. Dave and Amy, Wayne and some woman I wasn’t introduced to, Steve and Sue, and a whole lot of cousins. The food was standard family gathering fare. My teeth hurt from the pomegranate juice from the night before. They still do, a little.
Boredom came to me quickly in that gathering, it wasn’t engaging. I didn’t really enter into the gathering wanting to be engaged by anything, so I suppose I got my wish. Ducking upstairs, I had gathered up what I needed for the drive to Cincinnati and was out the door minutes after Katie called. We hauled a couple loads of possessions from her dad’s apartment to the Corolla and were on our way. The drive was marked only by a long disagreement about the Terri Schiavo. I think she should be let to die, Katie thinks that it should be up to God. I don’t disagree. God isn’t in the business of saving lives, only souls. He giveth and taketh away. I won’t recount the argument verbatim or even abridged. I’ll likely put my thoughts down on Schiavo later.
Everything is closed on Easter. I wanted food, she wanted to visit Staples. I wanted a DVD, she wanted a desk calender. We tried two exits near Cincinnati off of I71 only to find closed Staples and Walmarts and Best Buys. A pair of Canadian geese that blocked a parking lot exit provided me some entertainment as I put on the hazard flashers, pulled the emergency break, and herded the two out of the lane. After getting back into my car, I rolled down my window and shook my fist at them and shouted “Tell your friends!”
A Meijers provided us with grocery story grade sushi and Dumb and Dumberer. Back at her place, I parked in her roommate’s parking spot and hauled in most of her stuff. Inside, I unfolded her couch’s bed while she did… whatever it was. Computer related things I think. Sushi, movie, TV, sleep. Not overly exciting or remarkable, but not a thing to complain about. A nice relax.
The morning? A lazy start, Skyline for lunch, a trip to the bank, and dropping her off back at her apartment, and on my way back home. I finished listening to Silence of the Lambs audio book. Turns out it was abridged. I found that disappointing.
Interstate driving always has those occasional glances with eye contact between motorists as they’re passing each other. Happens to me a dozen times in between Zanesville and Cincinnati, and a dozen more times on the way back. Looking into the Civic passing my Corolla on the left, I looked right into the eyes of a brunette girl in the passenger seat. The frequent glances are always brief… A second, maybe less. This one had a longer duration, nothing more than could be described as a “moment”, but substantial compared to standard motorist glances. She had a strange desperate look to her eyes, I cocked my head to the side in curiosity. She wasn’t ugly or beautiful… A twenty something that wanted something more, and for a moment she asked a stranger for something with her eyes. The only thing I could give was that moment of attention. She turned in her seat as her driver pushed the car up farther ahead, and than she was gone. A less seasoned male might interpret that shared moment as romantic desire, but it wasn’t that at all.
Later, I had passed that car, and later still, it came up next to me again, like before, but she didn’t even look. Perhaps the whole thing was a strange coincidence, or a whole lot of my own imagination.
Thirty miles past as I turned over that string of moments in my head, and they were burned out by a commercial for “Aspen Edge”, Coors’s crappy low carb beer. Now, I am annoyed by how alcohol is marketed in general, but this angered me. Aspen Edge apparently has a campaign targeted at those who want good health. At the end of the commercial it said “Let Aspen Edge help you make good choices,”. I’ve made roughly four good choices while alcohol was in my blood… That’s roughly four out of roughly eight million decisions. All four of those I’m sure were made by total accident. Alcohol helps people make BAD choices. I might send the Coors’s Brewing Company some hate mail. With my luck I’ll find a case of Aspen Edge in my mailbox as a reply.
I can already tell I don’t want to be at work tonight.