Wednesday Evening. 9:30. Right After Bible Study.
I was beginning to worry. Here it was, the middle of the week, and nothing interesting had happened. Iíd managed to find something mildly amusing/interesting/something the last two weeks, but this week: nothing. And I was afraid I was going to have to regale you with tales of eating hamburgers, watching Evolution, and mocking Elton John at the cookout at mífriendís house. And, much as it is amusing to mock Elton John, I didnít think that truly fell into the category of ďamusing/interesting/somethingĒ. And, I certainly wouldnít be ďregalingĒ you because one is required to entertain to regale.
Ah. How I wish that my week had been so dull that I had been forced to non-regale you by relating in a dull and monotonous manner my tale of mocking Elton John at my friendís cookout. But, alas, it was not meant to be.
And thatís where this story picks up.
Wednesday Evening. 9:30. Right After Bible Study. And, More Importantly, In the Ghetto Surrounding USC.
Steveís grandmother worries about me walking around USC in the daytime, much less at night. But what am I to do? I need to go to Bible Study and to get to Bible Study I need to drive my car and, after driving my car, I need to park it and, when I need to park at USC but am not a USC student, I need to park on a street, which will get dark when the sun sets. So, perhaps understandably, Steveís grandmother worries about me walking alone to my car in the dark in the ghetto outside of the safe walls of USC.
But, I seem to recall that fate watches over fools and little children. And, if itís not foolish to be a woman and walk by yourself in the dark in the ghetto I donít know what is, so I should be safe.
But, alas and alack, the maxim says nothing about the cars of fools.
I suppose it was inevitable. I returned to my car, got in, started it, and began to drive away, and when I started moving I felt a breeze on my back--a breeze I was unaccustomed to feeling. I glanced back over my shoulder and, oh horror of horrors, my window was not there. Well, to be entirely true, it was there...scattered in a thousand pieces across my back seat. Let there be great wailing and weeping and sorrow of all forms.
Of course, Steveís grandmother, if she had any power over me, would prevent me from going to USC ever again. As it is, I hear she gave Steve quite the talking to about him not walking me to my car. But, on the plus side, I never wash my car, so now I have at least one clean window. Though, now that I think of it, $164.00 for a clean window is a bit steep; however, I have a bag full of spiffy pieces of broken glass. Iím not sure what itís good for, but Iím sure it will turn out to be useful someday.
And, if nothing else, I learned a valuable lesson. Donít wish for something interesting to happen to you; your wish might actually come true.