"i've got you"

the thing no one tells you about moving across the country is that it's HARD. or expensive. or hard and expensive. there are infinity things to do and pay for. or maybe everyone would tell you that, but i never bothered to ask, because i was so busy imagining myself browsing with nic at lowe's for the perfect soothing pale dusty blue wall color, playfully teasing each other, and reveling in the beautiful simplicity of our everyday life.

actually before that happens you have to box up all your things and live in heaping piles of crap you can't imagine why you kept and bring home pre-made salads for dinner only to realize you've already packed all your forks so you end up spooning wet gobs of lettuce into your mouth with your fingers. yes, the glamour has not quite set in.

and honestly that's really all quite dramatic and not so different from my everyday life, which is some version of haphazard chaos, to which i am quite accustomed. i did all the things well for the most part. i booked a u-haul a long time ago. i packed gradually. i made each one of 87 individual trips to goodwill on drives to and from work. i conscientiously disposed of things that could be used as materials for art projects by donating them to SCRAP. i donated unwanted books to the library. i ordered a backstock of my required monthly medications before my healthy san francisco insurance/ non-insurance expired. i sold furniture on craigslist. i donated unused canned food to a food bank. i spackled holes in the wall, painted, and wiped down bathroom walls. i had my car serviced. i renewed my cpr/ first aid certification, got a new tb test, revised my resume, and wrote a cover letter in anticipation of getting a new teaching job. i pumped myself up! i did it all! i'm proactive and i'm on it! I AM IN CONTROL!

this makes me sound mostly crazy and, honestly, i feel a little crazy. though being proactive is nice, i've basically been moving for two months and now that it's down to those last minutes i'm just ready to be done with the anticipation of moving and onto the new phase of actually living.

also, i did not do it all. in order to attach the trailer to my truck, i needed to install some wires that would connect the tail lights and turn signals from my car to the trailer itself. i figured this could happen when i had my car serviced in santa barbara. apparently, it could not.

they sent me to a place down the street, which could also not. they sent me to u-haul itself, where i purchased the wiring. 60 dollars and an hour to install. the man assured me it was easy and i could probably do it myself. i felt tired of waiting and paying for things that seem extraneous to me. i am independent! i decided i would do it myself.

by do it myself, i actually meant make my brother do it for me. we set out reading about ground wires and light testers and signals. he stripped wires; i taped them. at the end we had at least adhered the wires in some fashion and we felt successful.

the next day i took it back to u-haul to have them tested. they didn't work. not only did they not work, but then my car wouldn't start. they didn't have time to install them correctly that day. after much jumping on my car (literally), i got it to work. (this is a story that's not worth explaining. if you are a mechanic, however, check in with me and i will tell you this weird story and maybe you will solve all my car/ life problems.)

back in sf, i attempted to fix the wires myself, failed,  and then took myself to 3 different auto shops and 2 u-haul centers. this is an abbreviated version of a story that looks like me, ricocheting around san francisco in a frustrated panic, unsuccessfully trying to charm someone into helping me with my apparently ineffective good looks and sparkling personality. either they didn't have time for days or they didn't know how.

i generally decided that life was terrible, no one wanted to help me, and the universe was trying to destroy any fiber of spirit, joy, or love that was left in my body. i was, by no means, feeling dramatic or sorry for myself.

finally i crawled out to the abyss that is bayshore and a man named david said he'd help me, but it would have to be in three hours. in that interim, i drove home, bleached my shower, effectively burned off the top layer of my face with concentrated chemical fumes, and had an emotional breakdown. 

the thing no one tells you about being an adult is that it's HARD. or again, people surely tell you that, but, for all the reasons that are me and my preoccupation with ponies and love and positivity and joy, i sometimes fail to really ingest that information. i was wallowing in the roughness of doing something basically on my own. i didn't care that u-haul guy #2 couldn't fix my truck, but did he have to act like i was assaulting his newborn puppy by asking? i didn't care that garage #3 couldn't take me until saturday, but did they have to be so offended that i suggest they, as an auto shop, do something to alter/ aid my auto? why was everyone so bent on making my worst day the actual worst day alive? why did no one care that this was hard for me and i'm scared and i'm doing a big thing and i really was organized in every other way and i just needed help with this one thing before i get my truck thursday morning? why did everyone hate love and my relationship so much that they wished to make it impossible to happen?

yes. i was spiraling. 

i returned to u-haul at my allotted time. david came to help me. it will be about a half hour, he says. a half hour was actually an hour and, due to lack of any civilization nearby other than freeway, i was held captive in u-haul with its profusion of unhappy people in grinch sweatpants shoveling around what seemed to be enormous bags of empty candy wrappers, while a four note musical riff played on repeat in the background. i thought i would die. i thought my day was the end of days. i thought i had entered actual hell and the address was 1575 bayshore boulevard.

mercifully, david was finally done. he showed me that my lights were at last working. he asked who on earth had installed them in the first place. whoops. so much for being independent.

i asked him where i should pay.

he said, i've got you.

my dear sweet david, what did you say?

i've got you. i just said it was one of our own trucks.

as in, you don't want me to pay you any money?

it's cool.

then i hugged him. i did not ask if i could hug him. he did not mind that i hugged him. i said, i really needed someone to be nice to me right now, so thank you.

i would have paid him seven thousand dollars just to attach the goddam wires correctly. i just wanted it to be done. it wasn't about money. it was about a day that felt gross and unsuccessful and terrible. it was about a day, in which i felt defeated and like people are mean. it was a bad day. it was a stupid day.

sometimes you get to feeling like you're not seen. like you're on your own. like you just want someone to help you, lest you completely fall apart.

dear bayshore david, you saved my day. it's not about money. thank you for making time for me. thank you for knowing how to do something i couldn't quite do. thank you for your gesture, which restored my tuesday's dwindling faith in humanity. thank you for doing something for which you received no actual compensation or reward. thank you for being a human being. thank you for seeing me as a human being. thank you for doing something simple and kind.

thank you for kindness that reminds me to be kind in return.

it is such a good, important, easy reminder. kindness begets kindness begets kindness. i got caught up in the ugliness of everyone else's day. i should remember to be the kindness to start with. and i will. i will remember to start with kindness. thank you, bayshore david, for the reminder.