Tiny Dancer, Repair Bill Not So Much

by: Elexis Penner

 

So I was driving in to work. I had the radio on and Elton John’s ‘Tiny Dancer’ was playing. Naturally, I had it turned right up. This is all fine and good when you’re out on the dirt road, but as I came into town, I saw one of my friends, on the sidewalk, walking her kids to school. I waved hello, but as she turned to see me pass, she had a strange look of distressed bewilderment on her face. Kind of like when you first saw the trailer for Weekend At Bernie’s 2, and you’re thinking, “What? WHY??!!”

 

So I realize, oh jeepers, my radio’s cranked – she’s probably wondering what kind of imbecile is driving around town at 8:00 in the morning blasting tunes like some 17-year-old in an IROC. I quickly turned down the radio, kind of embarrassed, and slightly upset at Elton for bringing out this type of behavior in otherwise sensible adults.

 

But when the music faded, I realized that the reason she was looking at me like my van was on fire was not because of the music. It was because one of my tires was com-PLETE-ly flat, and it was making a terrible flappa-flappa sound as the shredded rubber rolled along on its rim.

 

Now... I don’t really want to go into tooooo much detail regarding my husband’s reaction when I told him that I may have driven for possibly a mile OR MORE on a flat tire. But I will say that phrases like, “How could you NOT notice?” and “Why don’t we just THROW money out the window?” might have been uttered.

 

In my defense, I have a lot going on in my brain at any given time. I mean, sometimes I just can’t be bothered with trivial items such as a blown-out tire. While I’m driving. Okay, fine. To be fair, I guess it’s hard to substantiate putting Tiny Dancer in a higher priority than the (cough) dollars it took to repair that wheel.

 

But maybe in that moment, I needed the music.

 

Just like maybe sometimes our bathroom mirror looks like the side of a city bus shelter in March… Or sometimes the kids are on the brink of scurvy because nobody has had access to any fresh fruit for six days because I just can’t drag my butt into the grocery store after eight hours at work. But sometimes I know that if I don’t sit myself down to regroup for five minutes right now, that something very regrettable might happen.

 

I once took a bit of a webinar on organizational skills. The speaker noted that some people have a very low pain threshold when it comes to things ‘not being totally finished’. Some people just can’t relax until everything that needs doing is done. It is not in their genetic makeup. I, on the other hand, have an extremely high pain threshold when it comes to the ability to relax even though there still things that need doing. Like Mel Gibson in Braveheart high.

 

Or maybe I do have a low pain threshold; but my list of things that need doing almost always includes taking a few minutes for quiet, or reading, or staring blankly into space. And this trumps my need to have all of the other ducks in a row. As in, my need to rejuvenate is one of my ducks.

 

Now, I’ve got nothing against ya’ll who are able to run this thing a lot smoother than I do. I’m happy for you. I shoot for this same thing, and maybe one day I’ll get there, but at this stage in the game it’s not really that high on my radar. I freak out about enough things in my life, I don’t need to add housework to the list.

 

I do try not to let things get to the driving on the rims point too often – that’s another point of stress in itself.

 

But as long as I’m able to recognize my stressors, I’ll be fairly choosy about which ones are worth keeping.