Yesterday was The Devil's Playground day, to do the weekly shopping. I was feeling kind of overwhelmed. I planned to get part of the ingredients for our Thanksgiving spread. That's a tedious task without the help of my ex-beast-of-burden, The Pony. Last year was my first Thanksgiving preparation. We spent my whole life going first to my grandma's, and then in later years to my mom's house.
I was a cotton-headed ninnymuggins, as Will Farrell says in ELF, woolgathering instead of minding my business, as I drove past that green hole-in-the-wall bar/restaurant on the way to my daunting task. So absentminded was I, thinking of the boys coming home, and looking in my mirror for the cop that had followed me through two roundabouts and past the high school that is not Newmentia, that I missed the turn to the cemetery. I always stop on shopping day to talk to Mom. She's so conveniently located.
I sensed my break in routine at the last moment, and quickly signaled and turned in at the lower road. I clicked my SiriusXM over to channel 58 Prime Country. It's country hits from the 80s and 90s. I always do that. When Mom rode with The Pony and me to pay the bills on the last Friday of the month, that's the station she liked. Sang along. Tapped her hands on her thighs (near that hole in the knee of her jeans, heh, heh).
Well. The song playing was Patty Loveless with "How Can I Help You Say Goodbye?"
So fitting for the moment.