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11:27 am - Mon 3/11/02 I went a little nuts and bought way more than I usually do, ending up with a big bill, and six bags. When I put my cart into the little corral, and pulled my bags out, I noticed how HEAVY some of them were, and remember thinking to myself, "This isn't going to be fun...". I had no idea how true that would prove to be. I got myself situated best I could, and started home (I live five or six blocks from the store). But before I'd even gotten out of the parking lot, I felt one of my bags start to go. But I thought, being the eternal optimist that I am, "I'll just be careful, and it'll be fine". But every time I moved wrong--Or moved at ALL, really--I could feel (And HEAR) the bag rip more. I got one block past the store, crossed the street, laid my heavy burden down for a minute, and when I went to pick it back up, the offending bag gave up the ghost. But to make matters worse, a second bag, perhaps in grief over the death of its brother, started to rip as well, and a THIRD bag's handle came off in my hand. For a time, after the cursing and crying and "Why Me Lord?" feelings of persecution, I just stood there, wondering what to do next. Should I just leave it there, a gift to the homeless from an anonymous do-gooder? Should I just eat everything I could--I WAS kind of hungry--and hope for better luck next week? Should I start to immediately plan the multi-million dollar law suit? Well, the bagger had put some of my sundries in plastic bags, so I re-distributed best I could into those. Then I stashed my bag of kitty litter and a six-pack of Diet Coke behind a hedge, and continued homeward (Even without the kitty litter and Diet Coke, it was a tough haul). When I got into the lobby of my building, yet ANOTHER bag went to pieces on me, but at that point, and so very close to my goal of simply getting home with my groceries, I was determined, and I made it to my apartment, only slightly the worse for wear (And when I went back to pick up the good I left behind the hedge, they were actually still THERE, which was nice). I've been seeing little LESSONS everywhere I look these days, and this experience was no exception... Last time Chris and I hung out, we were talking about some of the stuff I'm wrestling with, and "feeling the fear and doing it anyway" and all that, and Chris said something that really stuck with me, words to the effect of "You have to put yourself in situations where you don't have any CHOICE but to work things out". Once I made the decision, for whatever reason, to buy everything in the store today, I didn't really have any choice but to struggle home with it. And once I discovered I had been given factory-reject grocery bags, I had no choice but to figure THAT out. That's what I need to do more of in life. Just do what I need to do, and not worry so much. When I have to work things out, I'll work things out. Called Gregg-The-Car-Guy back today. He told me that my $2000 price tag was a little unrealistic, and that the range that he saw in the Recycler was closer to $2500-3500. I said fine, because what ELSE was there to say, and he said he would put out some more feelers, and to call him back again tomorrow (I told him all I care about is reliability, and he said that would help; A little ding or scratch or what-have-you can bring the price down, without really making any difference in how the car runs). I also called an ear, nose, and throat guy about the sleep thing (Michael C. had given me the guy's card awhile back). He had an office at Cedar Sinai, which is about a block away from work, but "had" is the operative word; I found out today that he's moved further away. D'oh! But we're trying to work things out. Right now, that's the most important thing, that I continue to make the effort to help myself.
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