All I wanted to do was sneak out and watch True Grit. I'll admit that I'm bitching a bit much for this blog post because I've been watching films for the past several Tuesday afternoons without incident. But I really didn't need the shit I got today.
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First of all, I'm surprised to say this, but True Grit may be the only 2010 film I would give an A to. It's the rarest of things, namely a straightforward Coen Brothers movie. But it's a great one, one without all the weird, Patton Oswalt-like tangents that sometimes throw me out of interest. Hallie Steinfeld, as the 14-year-old little girl/protagonist/avenger for her father's murder, is excellent, a headstrong girl who chooses to be wise beyond her years and still has no idea that going out on a bounty hunt will change her life in ways she couldn't imagine. I hope this isn't a stretch; I see a lot of To Kill A Mockingbird in this version of True Grit.
Very sizable crowd for a Tuesday afternoon, so I make sure I put my phone on silent. Either because I was too rapt by the movie or I didn't think anybody would call me during the movie because that hasn't happened the past several times, I didn't check till it was over. I pick up my phone, and luckily, I saw the slow pulsing blue light of my Motorola. I just got a phone before it switched to voicemail.
It was Grandmother. Before I left, she said she wanted me to buy something for her, but she forgot, but she'll call me if she remembers. But that wasn't why she called. From what I could piece together, she said that the assessment nurse, the one who was here with Grandmother, her translator and me, had called my folks, saying that forms she left for me for Mother to sign needed to be in soon ... like today -- and, if convenient for us, she would drop by the house later this afternoon to pick it up.
Now, I don't remember there being a deadline for signatures for these forms. I knew I couldn't wait on them forever, but I figured I'd get to them later in the week, or even next week. So what's the rush? Besides, if the nurse wanted them soon (I think she said they needed to be in before the end of the month, therefore they needed to be processed by Friday, therefore this is the latest date they are sure to be processed without any potential hiccup in getting paid), why not give me a day so I can get Mother to sign them that night?
After I hang up I realize that my phone was blowing up during the film. I had five, count 'em, 5 missed calls, a new all-time record for me. Two of them were unknown, and I know what that means: My fucking parents called and left angry voicemails.
So I dart out of the theater and into a bathroom stall to get my lies straight -- I am at work. First I call Father, who wasn't too pissed, and he just said to call Mother. She said basically what Grandmother told me. She got on my case -- "What the hell's going on? Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" -- but me being at work was a good-enough excuse for not tending to this situation untiil now.
I had plans to dink around the mall adjacent to the movie theater a little bit, then go home, clear the snowbank so I could see around the driveway, then go get coffee and do some writing. Fuck all that. Instead, I need to go home, retrieve those papers, drive downtown, get Mother to sign said papers, drive all the way up to the county offices (I didn't know if I had the time to just sit on my ass and wait for the assessment nurse to come at 4:30 like she said), hand them to her, and then ... well, I didn't know what my plans would be at that point. But I brought my laptop with me just in case I needed to get online.
Mother didn't yell at me too much, only asked if I had somehow brought the papers with me to "work"; I didn't, and she gave a quick "huh!" because I had to go home first, thus wasting gas. Father wanted to let me know to order a birthday cake for my brother and to cook a bowl of rice for all of us to eat for dinner. And I was gone. No yelling -- phew!
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It was while heading north to the government offices when I checked how many miles I drove that day. My odometer, which is completey electronic, has two trip settings. I use the first setting to keep track of how many miles I drive between completely filling up my gas tank; I reset the second one each day so I know how many miles I drive daily. I was getting to 70 miles. I was all over the Twin Cities' northern half today, not just downtown; I went to Uptown to pick up a ticket to this Saturday's Swarm /Minnesota Roller Girls twinbill before swinging out to the theater. And, knowing that I wanted to work out, I was going to get very, very close to 100 for the day. That's like driving to St. Cloud one-way.
With all the gas I'm using up/wasting, I'm really thinking I just have to stay home one of these days to make up for it. Maybe Friday, when we're having pork.
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So I get to the government offices for my county; good thing about Main Street USA: You can park on the side of the street without needing to feed a meter. I get to the office and ask for the assessment nurse; she tells me she left for the day. Now, this is around 3:30, an hour before she volunteered to drop by the house and pick up these forms she so desperately needed today. Unless I was chewing on marbles and didn't make myself clear in my phone call to her, I think I told her I would be here. But she wasn't.
The receptionist volunteered instead to ask her co-worker/cubiclemate to come out, take my forms and place them on her desk. I agreed and waited. And waited. And waited. I looked at the clock on the wall -- 3:50?!?!?! I had to ask the receptionist what was taking her so long. After another call, this co-worker/cubiclemate finally came out. She said my assessment nurse had to run. OK, but she better not be showing up at my house.
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The final indignity came after I got done leaving the county offices. Because I waited there so long, I got to the coffeeshop at around a quarter after 4. I promised My Father that I'd be home at 4:30 to cook the rice. Whatever.
Anyway, I proceeded to park the car at the strip mall where the coffeehouse was. But there was no space! Jigga-wha'? I did another loop around to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me. They weren't; a combination of the piles of snow and the drivers of those parked cars not giving a damn of where the parking lines are squeezed out any of the available spaces I could have used to park and get the damn fine coffee I was so craving at that moment.
That was the final straw. I thought about parking at the adjacent lot, the grocery store. But I didn't want to, wah!!! because my feet are killing me and I don't want to walk around snow and across a street just for fuckin' coffee. I felt so ... betrayed by these fucking parking space hogs that I gave up. I am always the one going out for coffee, always for staying out. This day, at least, I decided to go home early.
I still had time to do one of the tasks I wanted to do, either clearing the snowbank or writing. But I was too fucking tired. All that driving and running around, plus I think I was coming down with something. That's what I get for wearing a thin sweater into a movie theater. So fuck all tasks; I changed clothes and went to bed, hoping to pass out for as long as possible. Of course, knowing my luck today, I'd be interrupted by the assessment nurse who did come down to pick up the forms. And I changed into my pajamas; after I yell at her for not understanding what I said over the phone, she'd go, "Hey, why are you in your pj's? You don't live here, do you? This is not your home address!" And then I'd be in a shitload of trouble.
But luckily for me, she didn't come. Finally, something that went my way.
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