In Need of a Jump Start

Dearest Rachel –

You’d think, that after nodding off in the recliner sometime between nine and ten last night (I don’t remember exactly when; after all, I was asleep), I wouldn’t have any problem getting up early this morning. you think I wouldn’t have the need to slap the snooze button three times in a row, trying to fend off wakefulness. You’d think that, given the many tasks that I’ve set myself to do today, that I’d be eager to get up and get them done.

You’d think it, but you’d be wrong.

Maybe some of it has to do with the fact that, at 6:30, it’s pitch dark out. It’s no time to take on the day when it isn’t day yet. The problem is, the mechanics’ place opens at seven, and I feel I have to be back here when Kris gets here at 8:30, so I need to be there right when the doors open, in order to drop off the car, and then walk back home. And maybe that’s something I’m not looking forward to – I haven’t been doing much walking since Basel (or maybe the Amsterdam airport – you would not believe how spread out that place is). Granted, they say the weather today is going to be fantastic for walking in (especially for December – sorry, Greta, I like it this way), so I probably shouldn’t put up so much of a fuss about it.

Then there’s the muddled mess that were last night’s dreams. I can’t even relate them to you, as the visuals seemed to be a mashup of Civilization VI gameplay and James Cameron’s Titanic (which I’ve never seen, so how am I likely to get that right?). All I know is that I wasn’t really ready to let them go.

Maybe it’s just that I need a jump start every bit as much as my car did – which is why I’m taking it into the mechanics in the first place. It’s hard to get started sometimes on a winter morning.

But there’s all the stuff that needs to get done – and I even have the seeds of another letter to you assuming it all does get done – so I had best get out of bed, and get on with the day.

Ironically, after setting a load of wash to run before heading out, I noticed that Daniel never did get to bed last night, but rather fell asleep in his recliner. That actually didn’t come as any great surprise, as it took a fair amount of effort when I got home last night to keep him awake long enough to feed him dinner.

Hey, at least he ate heartily enough, which, given how he didn’t seem to know how to react to the idea of pepperoni pizza mac and cheese, is saying something. Granted, he didn’t finish it, but I had given him some leftover Malnati’s appetizers beforehand, so it’s only to be expected. But yeah, his sleep schedule isn’t exactly on an even keel any more than mine is.

Still, I figured I’d better let him catch what’s Zs he needs, as it was already after seven. Got to get the car where it needs to be, and give myself time to get home before Kris arrives.

At least the place is close enough that I was there barely ten minutes after the hour. There was already someone standing outside the door, which made me wonder if they show up and open the place yet. But no, it turned out that she had dropped her car off, and was waiting for a ride home. I grinned and indicated that ‘that’s why I brought my walking shoes,’ which seemed to elicit a chuckle. But by the time I dropped off my keys and left the place, there was a car pulling out of the parking lot, so it seemed like her ride arrived.

For what it’s worth, the walk home was thoroughly uneventful, and the weather isn’t quite as sunny as I thought I’d been told. At least it’s well in the fifties.

The strip mall, apart from the main grocery store, was more or less closed still – I had hoped to stop at the card shop, since I haven’t done any of that for the holidays yet.

Oh, well. At least I can pick up something for Daniel for breakfast – whenever he wakes up – and still be back in time to let Kris in, and show her which places need the most work after all this time. Then after that, I have all these other errands to take care of it. Is this what your day used to be like way back when?

Anyway, wish me luck, honey. I think I’ll need it.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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