You know ... just sit down, open the mail, recycle the newspapers that will stop being delivered in a couple of days, and just watch some TV.
But this deserves to be preserved.
It's 9:46 p.m.
I'm here at the house.
It was a pleasant ride; I like driving at night.
I listened, once again--possibly for the tenth time in a row--to Elton John's 1971 masterpiece, Tumbleweed Connection. I picked it up in a drug induced shopping spree last week, along with a dock stereo system for my ipod, which I can kind of justify needing for one of the many rooms of this place.
But I can justify almost anything, so I guess that doesn't make much of a difference.
On the ride, I had been listening to the extra disc which features a fantastic version of "Madman Across the Water" with Mick Ronson on guitar, who was replaced on the latter version of the record that featured the song as a title track. It's a haunting and powerful song and it strangely led me off of the highway.
For the approach to The House I flipped tracks to "Amoreena", a much more light and fun tune to bring me in for a landing.
I picked up the mail, and when I did, I thought I felt a letter drop on the ground. I put on the dash light to see into the mailbox ... it was empty .... I backed up a bit, and let the headlights shine on it but it was just grass, gravel, and tar, so I just parked the car. But this time I decided to park in my Mom's old spot on the other side of the house for a change. It's equidistant from the front door but more mail comes to my aunt's side so I most often just park there.
I got out of the car and gathered my few things that had now become many, with all of the newspapers and mail and whatnot. I shut the door of my car with my knee and wheeled around to make the short, long walk to the front door.
I entered and said hello to the house.
I patted each of the urns on their tops and said hello to my folks (I know it's not my mom and dad but I've called my mom and aunt my folks for years).
I got into my PJ's and went looking for my slippers.
I have to have my slippers.
But they were nowhere to be found; I looked everywhere.
I traipsed around and eventually found what I would call novelty slippers: oversized; with garish, jungle print; and not really comfortable. I can assure you that there are probably twelve pairs of them in various boxes, set aside as gifts, for people who haven't been met yet.
I put them on and they felt silly.
I decided to go get the backup pair that I keep in my car for emergencies.
Yes ... for emergencies ... just like this one.
I grabbed the flashlight.
I walked to my car.
And I saw that I had left my dash light on ...
And I just stood there in awe.
Why on earth would this happen?
I had no other reason to go back to my car. I had purposely gotten everything in that I needed, especially since a string of the solar lights lining the walkway that my aunt loved so much had stopped working and it was tough to see my way in.
I immediately thanked my mother and aunt for saving me a call to AAA in the morning because I never did buy jumper cables after the last fiasco.
I got my slippers from my car, turned off the dash light, and came inside and put the slippers on my feet.
Now it felt like home.
I grabbed my computer so I could write this story.
And when I sat down on the couch ... and I looked down to my left at the space between the ottoman and the treadmill ...
There they were, one pair of carefully placed slippers--the ones I had searched the whole house for--sitting there, grinning a silly slipper grin, saying to me:
"Welcome home, Alex ... we love you."
You may think I'm crazy ... but you have absolutely no idea.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short, silly, tale of something that some may say was mere coincidence, and others--namely me--would call a little bit more ... 'cause I can.
Now I'm going to watch some TV.
It's TV season, you know.
Thanks for reading,
PS: Goodbye summer of 2008. You were an adventure and a heartbreaker and I will never forget you.
What autumn will bring, I can only imagine.
I'm open for just about anything.