non semper erit aestas

When the going gets tough, this chick apparently cries. For the life of me I can’t figure out why when something entirely shitty happens I miss the chance to expand and instead expend tears upon (sometimes) cleverly worded (mostly elementary) insults. For example, the tow company removes my car from a parking space (devoid of any red stripe or visible No Parking sign) and proceeds to charge $400 for the 45 minute luxurious stay in their creepy and excessively isolated parking lot and how do I react? Well, by sobbing while very loudly labeling the two young men working that Sunday 3am shift as the legalized mafia, of course. In my defense I did at one point apologize to the gentlemen for my rudeness, however structured the apology’s scope to include only those insults that may have been incorrectly perceived as racism due to the two employee’s coincidental Russian (?) accents. By the way, this apology preceded a quick educational lesson on what karma is. Good grief, even I want to punch myself in the face.

I knew when I moved from Texas to California to live without friends or family that I’d be forced to face certain harsh realities of life. That was kind of the entire point of the move, actually: to learn what I knew not before and to grow from it. But I was expecting life lessons on running a household and money, not lessons about myself. I was not expecting to learn that deep down, I’m apparently a spoiled 14 year old girl who throws full out tantrums when denied her way. That’s a reality I don’t exactly know how to handle. Washing my mouth out with soap seems silly when the desired end result is lasting change. I expect all I can do is pray I react graciously the next time I’m faced with any entirely shitty situation and perhaps in the meantime send the tow company in downtown San Diego a basket of muffins. All Russians like muffins, right?