While I was driving home from Memphis the other day after dropping my guy off to catch the train, I had plenty of time to think. Since the air conditioning is not working properly in my vehicle since just after (oh thankewthankewthankew) the heat wave ended last fall, and since I've not had the extra cash on hand to get it fixed just yet; I've been driving with the windows down. That creates extra drag, yes I know, but one way or the other I'd end up paying for cooling so extra drag equals extra gas for the time.
The thing about driving with the windows down is that I find it extremely challenging to listen to the radio (which is the only sound system in my car, well besides me. oh! and the handful of gravel rattling around in the hubcab), esp if I'm stopping/starting and then getting up some speed on the hi-way and then stopping as I go thru PoDunkin'DoNuts, Mizz'ippi. I can understand why the gansta wanna-be's next car over were scowling at me. Cuz really, "We Built This City (on Rock and Rollllllllllllllll)" should never be played that loudly, esp at that time of night. And then to have a puffy pudgy woman bellowing out the lyrics while driving a gramma car is just wrong. But that's not the end of days sign, altho some would argue that it sure should be.
The other thing about driving with the windows down is that I get really grimy. I mean there is this nasty combination of road grime, environmental pollens, sweat, tears, and bug blood that creates a rather disgustingly sticky film on my entire person. I feel like I'm wearing a mixture of mud and honey as some sort of toxic facial mask. Dudes, if I am gonna have that sensation, I'd rather be on a motorcycle.
So I turn off the radio, and just sorta buzz along with the rushing wind pulling the shorter fine little hair loose from my headband, where it gets stuck in the sweaty grimy facial film (which in itself is not so bad, but the thing is that the ends of the loose shorter fine little hair become trapped between my glasses and my eyeballs and since my eyeballs are wet and my glasses generally are not, the ends of that there loosened hair adhere to my eyes and that makes driving a real challenge as I pry the stuck hair off my temples and it reaffixes itself~~and my guy wonders why I sometime lose my shit and shave my head; but that's not the end of days sign).
No, no. The sign of the coming of the end of days was placed in front of the rather large church just down the road from my guy's place. Actually, it wasn't even the sign itself, but what it represents. Cuz that church? Usta be an all you can eat seafood buffet on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Then the metal building was renovated into a church. Southern Style Baptist, we do prayin' right.