a week in the life

Now I know why John Lennon didn't write a song longer than 'A Day in the Life.'

I could start with 'woke up, got out of bed' but from there it just deviates significantly.

Though it's still early on a Friday, over the course of this week there's been a car purchase, a curriculum update, a welcome invitation to speak, confirmation on upcoming workshops and programs, and lessons from eastern Europeans on the benefits that come with smoking.

But even the smoking nonsense about smoking pales with the latest development. One that is just so amusing, so comic, and perhaps so expected, that it trumps the sight this morning of a man storing his cell phone in his crotch. Is that a conference call you're on, or are you just glad to be riding the Red Line?

The comedy ensues from a brand new used car, one with an apparent car alarm. An alarm with it's own mind, or it's own schedule. Or perhaps concerns for my neighborhood. As this alarm goes off at will, for no known reason. No vibration, no noise, no contact, nothing.

So I do the first thing anyone would do in this circumstance. I called the dealership. Well, the cell for the salesperson. He was polite, but reiterated that electrical issues are not covered under the limited 30 day warranty, and that perhaps it could all be fixed with a new battery, or something with the fancy key fob, basically something that is beyond his or the dealership's control.

Then, as an aside, he added that he's no longer with the dealership, no longer working where he was a scant few days ago. Poof, no longer a used car salesman for Jim Coleman Toyota. Wonderful. And when asked for the name of someone at the dealership who could possibly answer my questions, and still works there, he offered the name of the used car sales manager. But just his first name. Didn't have both names. Thought it might be Silverman, but knew it wasn't. Since found out it's Stilman, but that's besides the point.

What a great country we live in, where our major issues have to do with a quirky alarm on a car that won't be repaired by a car dealership that either can't hold or tosses away salesman at the drop of a hat.

At least we're not waiting for a tram, in the rain, smoking a cigarette, in Belgrade. Well at least we're not today.