We write. We rant. We wrestle the magic.
Anyone else snowed in out there? It’s a frustrating blanket of fluff around Philadelphia. I shovel the driveway, more snow replaces it, and so on. All the impromptu hard labor has me wondering why I didn’t just pay someone to do it for me. Because. My debit card is in ribbons — cut up due to the infamous Target hack. Been waiting on a new plastic means of conveyance for more than a week. The whole debacle has drawn an eye towards a glaring hole in my financial strategy, but more importantly, allowed me to reach one gigantic conclusion about a number of events occurring at the moment: they point straight back to Target. Don’t believe me?
Without a debit card, I needed to withdraw some cash from my bank for the week or so before a new one arrived. One problem: my bank has zero branches in the entire Garden State. I’d need to drive over the bridge and into Philadelphia just to get to a teller and manually (in a manner of speaking) withdraw the funds. Second problem: the bridge toll is $5, and I had no cash! Not to worry…I can just write a friend a check, have them cash it, and use that money to subsist for the duration. Sorted. Not so fast…
Been an odd season around the Northeast hasn’t it? One weekend it’s warm, the next it’s -75 degrees outside in a blowing gale. All that fluctuation turns modern roadways into mini moon surfaces. Such was the case when I, armed with my cash, went to the grocery store to buy food to last me until that blessed debit card showed up. Nestled in heavy traffic (we just call it ‘traffic’ here in Jersey) I never saw the pothole (more like the divot left by a meteor strike) until it was too late. The right front on my passenger side immediately deflated. Took me 40 minutes to change the tire only to discover the pothole dented my wheel. What store was I on the way to when said incident occurred? Target!
Everyone who knows me also knows that I’m allergic to all airborne particles. Doesn’t matter what it is — dust, mites, ragweed, angel feathers, happiness — if it’s in the air, I’ll probably inhale it, then sneeze or explode. Out in the open, windy air changing my tire gave me a lot of time to breathe the fine low-hanging New Jersey exhaust. Hours later I had a scratchy throat, which turned into no voice and later a sinus infection. Fortunately, both the doctor and the pharmacy allowed me to pay by check for my exam and funny-smelling horse pills.
What’s my point here? None really, except maybe to illustrate that life can be an interesting set of (unfortunate) dominoes at times. It isn’t really Target’s fault that my debit card got shipped to my parent’s address instead of my own or that I decided to risk a pothole rather than ram the driver in the lane next to me. What I need is a local bank, and a new wheel.