GOOD REASON—There’s a perfectly good explanation for the garage band down the street. I’m told someone will make up the explanation later.
FREE COUCH—My 6-year-old son and I were on a walk to the park when we came across a couch someone had placed in front of their house at curbside, a sign on the couch indicating it was free for the taking. I stopped my son before he could sit down—the couch was filthy. Nobody in his or her right mind would accept this free gift, let alone put it in their home as an actual piece of furniture. The couch sat on the street for about a week. Even the “Free” sign survived all seven days. One morning, while driving by, I noticed someone replaced the “Free” sign with a sign that read “$50.” Someone stole the couch within the hour.
ATM TROUBLES—While waiting in line for the drive-up ATM, the woman a few cars ahead of me struggled from the driver’s seat of her vehicle to reach the buttons on the machine. So she stepped out of the car and accomplished the transaction on foot, accidentally bumping her door shut. The automatic door locks went into effect, locking all four doors and her baby inside. After failing to coach the baby into unlocking the door, the woman called someone on her cell phone, and within five minutes, a man in a blacked-out sedan came speeding into the parking lot, left arm extended out the window with a keyless-entry remote in hand, clicking away at the button. The woman’s doors unlocked, allowing access inside the car and access to the child. The man in the blacked-out sedan sped out of the parking lot as fast as he’d entered—the woman’s embarrassed husband, no doubt.
YOU SPEAK WINDOW?—My family and I were wandering through the neighborhood strip mall when a kid, banging on the window from inside a store, seemed to be speaking to us. The boy was clearly telling us something important, and we stopped and tried to make it out. I couldn’t hear a word he was saying nor could I read what he was saying by his lip movements. I asked my wife if she could understand the kid. She said she doesn’t speak Window.
OUCH! —BAM! My 6-year-old son banged his head on the roof of the car as he settled into his car seat. I asked if he was OK. He said he felt great—in that instance he knew he’d grown taller since the previous day.
EXHAUSTED—My wife and I finished some exhausting housework, then took a stroll down Town Center Drive to find a place to eat — neither one of us wanted to cook. As we strolled, my wife told me how she’d hit her limit, that she was mentally and physically worn out, that she wouldn’t be able walk back to the car after dinner, that she might not make it through dinner without passing out in her plate of food. Just before she could fall flat on her face, she saw that “pearlized leather” Coach bag in the store window and regained energy to run inside and gawk.
MANNERS, PLEASE—After returning home from the store, my 6-year-old son asked if he had good manners. I still can’t figure out what he wants.
Find more of these little what-have-yous and what-nots in Michael Picarella’s new blog, “Bits from the ‘burbs: A Suburban Thinker’s Thoughts.” These writings originally appeared in The Signal of the Santa Clarita Valley in September of 2009.