Patience is a Virtue

Chapter 13 "Dude, When are YOU Going to Leave?"

Chapter 13 "Dude, When Are You Going To Leave?"

I both love and hate Tuesday's.  I love them because so many of my classes are on Tuesday, which means I am that much closer to being done with school when Tuesday classes are through,  and I hate them because I don't get done with class until 9pm.  Well this Tuesday is a hate day.

All of my classmates are eager to get out of class at 9pm on the dot, and if you are a straggler, you are walking out to your car in the dark of night, alone.  Where I had to park today, was the furthest parking lot from my building.  None of the other girls are parked over there tonight.  I'm normally not afraid to walk in the dark, I take precautions and am aware of my surroundings, but recently with the hole in my bathroom wall and then the roses on my doorstep, I am just feeling more anxious than usual.

As I crossed the road to get to the parking lot, I saw a car's hazard lights flashing.  It is in the general direction of where I parked.  I scanned the parking lot for people walking around and slowed my steps to get to my car cautiously.  When I was forty feet away, I saw two male figures take off running away from my car.  How do I know they are males?  Their height and the gait as they ran screams male.  It was such a dark night, and the parking lot lights don't seem to be working, that I can't make out anything else in particular about them.

Once I am ten feet away, my heart sinks.  My car door is open, the interior dome light on, the hazards flashing.  And worst of all, my driver's side window is completely shattered.  Crap!  I don't have the time this week to deal with needing a new window.  I want to scream and cry all at the same time.

Before I even get to my car, I pull out a big binder from my bag and take one last look around to see no one is around.  Then I use my binder to swipe the shattered glass off of my seat.  I am not about to sit on broken glass.  Shards of glass in my butt is the last thing I need.  That thought makes me smile and want to laugh.  At least I can still find the humor in life.

I got in my car and started it knowing there was nothing I could do about my car getting broken into.  This is the third time in five years.  If you tell your insurance company, your rate just goes up and the cost of a new window is less than $200, paying out of pocket.  Calling the cops, they pretty much say, 'Without evidence, there isn't anything we can do.'  Curse you Tyler for putting this fancy stereo in my car all those years ago!  Every single time, I know they are trying to get the stereo, because they always take the knobs off to pull it out, but Tyler had extra reinforcements put in when he installed it.  With prints on the knobs, they always steal my knobs.  Those little knobs are $7 a piece.  Really thieves?  You want $14 of knobs?  Just tell me, I'll go buy you some.  But now I have a $200 window to replace.  Ugh!

To cheer myself up on the drive to my apartment, I think about the possibility of glass in my butt again.  I know that working in the dental clinic is a sitting position and having an accident on your derrière doesn't mix well.  I know this from secondhand knowledge.  The dentist I worked for this summer had a 4th of July gathering at his house for all these old couples.  They of course had been drinking and decided to set off Roman Candle fireworks.  Let me just say, alcohol and fireworks do not go well together.  They almost always spell disaster.  Anywho, Roman Candles are the fireworks you stick in the ground, light them, and they shoot off, high into the sky before exploding.  Well, the dentist's good buddy had lit the Roman Candle and turned to walk back to the group.  The dentist had his back to the fireworks as he was getting another beer out of the cooler.  The Roman Candle fell over, aiming at the group, just as it shot off.  It traveled straight toward the group, hit the dentist's foot, made a ninety degree turn up under his shorts pant leg, where it proceeded to explode on his butt.  He had third degree burns, and sitting for work was proving to be a problem, according to my mom who keeps snickering about her boss' burned butt.  I can't help but laugh and think, at least I'm not dealing with a burned butt or glass in my butt.