If one natural disaster doesn’t get me, there’s always another around the corner. On Monday, the sustained heavy rains created miracle lakes everywhere. Miracles because after all this time, money and enthusiastic construction, it is truly a miracle that no one can build things in a way that doesn’t collect water in all the wrong places rather than spread it throughout nature, where it could do its best work.
That wonderful feeling I usually get when landing a parking space was fleeting. I pulled into spot that was part of the parking lot lake. Stepping out of the car, I patted myself on the back for wearing hiking boots. As I stepped through the gently rolling waves, I worried about how drenched the cuffs of my pants were while the pelting rain wetted the rest. Then I discovered my boots weren’t waterproof.
The travel adventure ended once I entered the grocery store. After two years of living with a taxed supply chain, I strolled up and down the aisles foraging for the closest approximation of the items on my digital grocery list.
On the return trip to my car, the sky was darker and the lake had swelled. Despite the latter condition, all I could think of was pushing my basket as quickly as possible through the rain and flood. Then I made another discovery.
Some safety mechanism on the cart’s wheel locked in place. I reached down to unlock the one wheel that prevented me from pushing the cart with ease. Finally, I settled for half pushing, half carrying the cart onto the sidewalk.
Even though I only had three reusable bags full of groceries, they were heavy. Daily planks had strengthened my core so I wasn’t stranded, needing someone else’s help. I made several appeals to the Higher Power for my bags not to rupture. At the same time, my mind churned with the thought, “I will kill a motherfucker if a bag breaks and someone gives me a hard time.” Once I waddled to my car, stowed the groceries and sat in the driver’s seat, I took a moment for some deep breaths.
As I’d agonized my way over to my car, I noticed that the best bet was to back out and turn around, despite how the parking space was angled. That would require me to make a 3-point turn. I waited for a lull in traffic. Definitely didn’t want the car version of something getting locked or stalled like the grocery cart did. Fortunately, none of my fellow drivers were assholes. They were in the lake and respected that my small car was attempting to head in the opposite direction.
After that, I didn’t mind the slow progression home. No need to rush through 6 PM traffic in the pouring rain. All that awaited was the pandemic and fretting about whether the electrical grid would hold up during the ice storm later in the week.