I Need A Shovel

There are a lot of things that I like:  Country music.  Diet Dr. Pepper.  Driving down back roads with the windows down, the music up and my feet on the dash.  Late night swims.  Mexican food.  The smell of new books.   Raw cookie dough.  The ocean.  Sleeping in.  Sooner football.   Dancing.  The color purple.

There are things I don't like:  Being ignored.  Poor service.  Traffic.  Spiders.  Social injustice.  Muffin top.  Feeling rushed.  Putting away laundry.  Beans.  Soul patches.  Arrogance.  Bad table manners.  Crocs. 

And being lied to.

I've been trying to get something that was paid for back in May and I'm getting the run-around. That alone is frustrating but I am 10 times more frustrated by the fact that instead of being honest and just telling me what happened, I'm getting fed a plate full of heaping crap.

The whole thing is so lame and insulting to my intelligence.  Like I'm not smart enough to figure it out. Like I don't notice the inconsistencies or down-right absurdities of the stories.  Do I come across as that dumb?

And it's confusing, because it's not like I'm some random stranger. I'm the person you've known for four years. I'm the person that waited around every Wednesday night to make sure you had a ride home. I'm the person who has scheduled play dates and done birthday parties. We may not be friends, but shouldn't that count for something?

Because it counts for something to me!  Trust me, if it didn't I wouldn't keep giving you the benefit of the doubt. I wouldn't keep giving you chances. I wouldn't stand there with my mouth shut while you tell me lame and ridiculous excuses.

And when, once again, it fell apart yesterday I wanted so badly to call you out. There were a zillion things I wanted to say. None of them were particularly nice. And since I already knew how it was going to go, I had walked in planning to say them all.

But I couldn't do it.  I just couldn't.  Not because I didn't want to and not because I didn't think it was warranted. I couldn't do it because I'm still hoping you do the right thing.  You've already ruined your credibility and lost my business but I want to give you the opportunity to make it right. 

And I know that's kinda dumb and naive on my part because we both know when I show up Monday there will be another story.  But eventually there's going to be an end.  And I'm hoping it's an end that we can both feel good about.