Sometimes life just offers up a few frustrations. And moments of futility. Like this morning.
Dressed and ready to go, I decided to make an early run for the San Francisco Chronicle. Although I no longer subscribe on a daily basis, I still like to get the Sunday issue so I can get a brief glimpse of what is happening in my favorite city. I usually pick one up on the way to church, stopping off at the Uncle Harry’s Bagels in Fig Garden Village. However, there is a grocery store a few blocks away from my house with a machine outside, and I can make a quick run there in about 10 minutes (that’s by driving, not by walking, another frustration in this city).
As I go around the corner, leaving our housing development, I hear this odd thunking, and looking in my rearview mirror see a small black box lying in the street. I turn around and go back to see that it’s my husband’s glass case. He had left it on the top of my car, just like yesterday he left his coffee cup on the top of the car. Fortunately, the glasses were fine, the case just a little worse for wear.
When I get to the grocery store I see that there is still a Chronicle left in the box (often they are all gone by the time I get there as I guess there are quite a few of us SF devotees) so I pull up, grab my wallet, and head for the box. After putting in my coins, all 12 of them, I try to open the door but it will not give so I punch the coin return but get nothing. I am thinking maybe I didn’t get the right number of quarters this morning when I counted them out of the roll we keep on the divider for just this purpose. But still, the box should have returned my money.
So, I returned home, empty-handed except for my husband’s glass case. I counted out another 12 quarters, but I am so ticked off at that stupid Chronicle box for keeping my coins that I might just bypass the paper today and read what I can online as I do with the Fresno BEE.