Surreal day

Surrealism. Not just a movement in the arts. A way of life.

My life.

This morning I spoke to the woman I work with whom was to be my escort to the WVU vs. Cincinnati football game on November 11.

"Still up for the game."

"Oh no."

"What?"

"That's on a Saturday, isn't it? I just got a schedule change, I'm working on Saturdays."

Urk. Ouch. Smells like a faint whiff of ozone as the lightning strikes. I am going to presume that's a subtle dump. Being a larger than life personality sometimes I am accused of insinuating myself into people's lives by force of will and I am sick to death of that, so, no thanks. If she calls and wants a rain check, fine. I'll just let the topic drop.

I got home this evening, and my protege known as "Titania" called. She was stranded and in need of a rescue. Not that unusual in and of itself. Turns out she got a ticket on Friday for trying to walk to work. The West Virginia State Police informed her that walking along the only road that connects her apartment building to the local shopping center where her job is was a violation of the law.

After I picked her up and was on my way driving her to her job, my cellphone rang. Unfamiliar number.

It was Karla, she who is known as "The Mad Gypsy". Old friend. Old lover. Damn good poet. She was just calling to say "Hello".

I just now got off the phone with her.

Surreal day, to be sure.

I'm waiting for the next oddity in space and time to strike, today.