Let the Wheels Come Off

Last night I really wanted a haircut. Unfortunately, I didn't leave work in time. So I decided to color it instead and went to the local CVS.

Well, everyone in Mableton who was over 70 and owned a car the size of a tank decided they needed something from the same store. Already raining, 4 of the spaces were covered in water. You couldn't park there unless you wanted to have water up to your ankles when you got out. Then there were not one, not two, count 'em FOUR spaces where someone in an Escalade or a KING CAB or a HUMMER couldn't manage to park in one spot, but in two. That's a dozen spots absorbed by stupidity. Take another four as handicapped spots and your options become extremely limited. Man, I hate those huge cars.

I got my color, and I colored my hair, but the next day wasn't much better. It boils down to this: I have people who have gotten so used to my babysitting services that they forward issues to me when they don't even know what the issues are anymore. I'm not the BIG GUN, no. I'm not Sales, afterall. I'm not signing the contracts. This must be why I feel like I'm steering the cruise ship from the BACK rather than the front.

It is time to steer my own boat. I'm going to start with my own bike. This is the Diamondback Serene Citi 26" Women's Comfort Bicycle. It's not a mountain bike. It's not a roadster. It has a seat for my butt size. It only has 15 gears. I'm getting the large, 17-inch frame. And next payday, I'm going to ask Amazon to mail it to me, with free shipping. And I'm going to ride it, and it's going to teach me how to steer everything I do from the front, instead of from the back.

Yay, Technology.

--Laura