Weird . . . but I awoke in the middle of the night after watching the Colts on Monday night football with the realization that the mailman may have left a box of books on the front seat of my 1991 Caprice wagon. Our deliverer sometimes does this.
I don't know how many times I've wondered: Where are those books I ordered? only to go out to the car in the middle of the night and find the box sitting on the front seat. Makes me feel like Joseph or Daniel. I can interpret dreams.
Of course, I never lock our car doors. Not even in rough neighborhoods. My only hope of getting a better car at this point is if someone steals one of our four heaps-o-junk--I have another one in the shop this week at $500 a crack repair. At least there might be a little insurance money in the mix if someone takes one of these off my hands. (Please, thieves, have mercy and help me out!!!)
I've even been driving down the road when the thought will hit me: I wonder if there's a box of books in the back seat of one of our junk cars? Often, there is! Makes driving junk a little more tolerable.
A box of books is like having a second Christmas. Or, maybe it's just like a box of chocolates. You never know what your gonna get.
No comments:
Post a Comment