Now If the Dentist Would Deliver, I'd Be All Set

At various intervals in recent years it has occurred to me to wonder if I’d be a lot happier being the kind of girl audacious enough to dance around her living room in her polka-dot panties wailing to Sly and the Family Stone without giving a hoot what’s going through the cat’s mind. Alas, I fear his furry scowl, so in lieu of boogying on the coffee table, I’ll just quietly share the one thought struggling insistently for release from the chaotic hubbub of my brain.

I HAVE A CAA-AAR! I HAVE A CAA-AAR!

To be fair, ‘car’ may be overstating the case a tad, but I assure you the ugly-ass lawn ornament that has been blocking my front walk for two months did indeed sputter to life in a cloud of blue smoke this afternoon, as surely as I live and breathe. That ghetto heap will never see another road trip, but $85, two visits from the cute Mexican-Mechanic-Who-Makes-House-Calls, and six weeks of head scratching from my well-meaning next door neighbor have purchased me the kind of sweet freedom of which those banned from limited-access highways can only ever dream.

I have been biking 15 miles a day to and from work in the wind and rain and searing heat since mid-June, and although I’ve dropped almost 20 pounds and developed thighs that call to mind the haunches of a wiry Appaloosa, I’m sick of having to do all my errands between 6 and 10 AM every other Saturday when Roomie lets me borrow the Santa Fe (woo, I thought that sentence would never end). On the teeter-totter of my carless existence, the fat ass of Inconvenience is about to give that teeny runt Benefits a solid bounce.

To wit: this past weekend after I realized Roomie had flown the coop and left me an empty fridge, I dumped out my biggest backpack and blazed a four-mile trail through kamikaze traffic to the nearest grocery store, whereupon I bought exactly eight items because that’s all the pack would hold (damn those pillowy bags of lettuce and air). Then I wobbled home as quickly as my unbalanced load would allow before my Muenster melted into my backside in the Florida sunshine. It only took me three hours to eat everything I brought home and two hours later I was hungry again. Frankly I don’t care what the French do, I’d prefer to live a little on the wild side and purchase all six of my English muffins -- are you ready for this? -- at one time.

But that’s all a vague nightmare now, already almost forgotten as I bask in the shiny excursionary prospects stretched out before me. I can go anywhere! (Within forty miles as long as it doesn’t involve sitting in traffic which makes my radiator overheat and all the pretty lights come on.) I can do anything! (As long as it doesn’t cost over $35, which is the amount I need to fill up the gas tank tomorrow.) I can listen to music while I go to work! (Except the CD player isn’t wired to the accessory power and starts over every time I get out of the car, which is perfect for those who only want to hear the first two tracks of every CD they own.) The possibilities are limitless! (Unless I’m reminded that I’m moving next month and need every last cent I can spare for the security deposit.)

On the other hand, leaving the house can be highly overrated. I may find lip synching Echo and the Bunnymen tunes at full blast until the cat until hides under the couch just as fulfilling, and that’s free.