Jigsaw Car

The driver's side now has a working door with a working window, thus the earned reputation of Have You Seen That Woman in this city is laid to rest.  For the past four months, the driver's side door has not shut reliably, swinging open the first time back in March on a right turn.  It was startling not only to me, but to the good people in their own lanes my god in heaven did you see that?  Got it to shut a time or two after, but then the latch went dead as well.  A friend gave me bungee cords, which were only emergency back-up to prevent total unbolted anarchy, whilst I drove with a death grip upon the inner door.  You learn a lot about physics under the circumstance.

One ding day, the thing closed, latched and said what's the problem?  Since that sunny equinox, I have tumbled myself in and out of the passenger side: kneeling while facing backwards to vault over the middle console and pushing into a roll to plop finally into the driver's seat.  Not attractive.  Attention getting.  That Woman, Have You Seen Her?  Grocery stores, big box stores, work, plazas, malls, libraries, restaurants.  Added entertainment for the population concerned getting a sneaker lace looped around the passenger side seat release.  Ha ha.  Violent sparks of swears could be heard through the moon roof that was usually open, since both the driver and passenger windows were broken, unmoving, sealing me into an aquarium of car.  I held my chin up as this is truly small potatoes in the grander scheme of things, and besides, it worked.  

Turns out you need a working door to receive an inspection sticker, I had to pay attention and get it fixed.  My mechanic found a door in a junkyard, installed a new motor for the passenger window, and fiddled with some under the hood computer stuff and I now have a rather dashing black door on my red car that opens and shuts with regularity, windows working.  It is a car of other pieces, a Frankencar, a jigsaw puzzle put together by a swami of transference, a conjurer of carriages.  The young man actually took the lock out of the broken door and put it in the new so it was able to be secured.  Thank you.

The opportunity to paint a doodad on the black door presents itself.  I leant towards painting some sort of art car business on it when it was all red; you know, the car is eleven years old and thus a target for monkey minds; now that the door is black, well, I consider it open interpretation week.  I like fruit, perhaps an array of fruit and vegetables.  A Keith Haring jumble of lines and colors.  Something small to start, like dipping a toe into the water; it has to be bland and inoffensive, for I don't want people following me home.

I will think of it later, for now this has been a busy week and I am tired.  In this state, we have had one of the hottest days of the past twenty years, which will continue through late Sunday when a blessed cold front will slide through the heat like a Russian sledge.  I am lucky enough to have an air conditioner, and cats and fish and plants have little knowledge of the devastating, smothering, stultifying heat of the atmosphere.

Good evening, good night, drink plenty of water; make sure the animals have water too, so that your place in heaven is ensured.  The night temperature should drop to the seventies, a welcome reprieve from the thickened air of day.  Sleep well, dream of fruits and vegetables, growing things, living things, water and the green limestone bed of the river.  Let dreams go, let them billow like curtains in the night breezes full of time and hope and awareness of being.  Isn't it nice?  Cool air spills over sills, night hawks call, I have heard that Mercury and Saturn will shine in the sky. Sleep well, friend, I think of you.