Yesterday morning I wanted to spite the system, so I boiled water in my frying pan, set my teacup in the sink, and poured the water all over the sink. Enough of it landed in the cup, so I made a cup of tea.
My shelves are full of pasta and I have no pots. But, darnit, I had tea.
Spite. Spite. Spite.
Does anyone know if we had a list of epic conventions? Proem, descent into the underworld, what else? Well, here, I will tell you about the gods.
I had to step over a bird in order to get to my car. It was small, black, dead, and lying supine, mouth-open about two feet from my rear tire. I climbed into the car, started it, counted the gears and started off.
I turned the wrong way, so I turned around and went back.
Huh. Maybe I passed my turn. Let's go...here!
Nope, definitely was not supposed to turn here.
I went around the block again and found a gas station. I pulled in. Asked.
Everybody knew how to get there, except for the people who didn't know how to get there, and they were just as talkative. Finally, the consensus was to get on the expressway (the expressway?) and get off after two exits. And turn right. Yeah, yeah, turn right.
I did, and I turned right, and I was still lost. Maybe if I go down two more blocks...
There, rising out of the pouring rain and stuck aberrantly between lit-up drugstores and gas stations, was a huge, dark-brick building. I recognized it immediately: this is a Catholic Church, and an old beautiful one. I don't care that I'm lost and it's raining and I'm still in my business clothing. I'm gonna go see this church.
I drove around it for a bit, sat in the parking lot for a bit, felt a lot better for a bit.
Then went awkwardly across the street to ask directions at the drugstore.
Two turns later I was in my own parking lot.