Welcome to Musing Interruptus. Thank you for clicking, thank you for listening. There are memories that I will take with me to the ends of my life as I know it. This is one of them. The day I was much too satisfied with myself.
There is nothing quite like the feeling of sheer happiness after conquering a fear or facing adversity. Even if it was all in your head, the whole time. The exhilaration of achievement needs to be nurtured and lived intensely. It all starts with the turn of the ignition key, lowering all the windows, opening the sunroof, and playing your favorite tunes on the radio… chased by the feeling that this will be short-lived… but how long? That is irrelevant. Right now it’s just you and the open road. Wind, speed, tunes, nothing but the road ahead, and happiness.
Every road has a turn, and there are no exceptions to this. In my case, a turn that led to speed bumps and the smell of a factory that interrupted the feeling a little, but not enough. The right song came on to rescue me back from the ill-conceived location of the stinky factory.  The sun was perfect and the wind did its part to stop the nauseating smell from putting an end to my ecstasy. I kept driving, but something did happen. I am suddenly aware of how happy I am. How light I feel. I’m as light as air. What is wrong with this picture?
I reconsider my surroundings. I look at the door handle where I normally hang my mask. Something is amuck. I double-check the rearview mirror and it hits me. For the first time in two years, since the start of the pandemic, I left the house without a mask. Mind you, I’ve been meticulous about masks, portable disinfectants, and carrying on in open spaces. It was bound to happen. I let happiness get the best of me. Not all was lost! I always have a stash of masks in the car! I had always had a reserve of masks in the car. I shoved my left hand into the space between my seat and the backseat door. Nothing. It’s empty. My god, my car is clean. It’s too clean. My husband cleaned my car. He is so thoughtful. With my right hand, I dump the contents of my enormous purse onto the copilot’s seat. I’ve also changed the soundtrack to something a little more appropriate. Chopin’s Funeral March in C minor seems fitting. The front seat has nothing that will do. I even try to fashion a mask out of a little blue microfiber cloth I use to dust the surfaces. Wait! The glove compartment! There might be something there. As I opened it I knew that I knew the exact contents of that glove compartment, I rifled through it anyway… and no, there are no extras in there either.
I’m looking on both sides of this very long and stupid street for a pharmacy. Come on! We are enduring a pandemic, there should be pharmacies all over the place, especially on this long and stupid-looking street. I have to turn again. I’m glad to leave that street behind me. It’s ruined everything. No worries. I’ll fix it. I could raise my blouse over my nose, thus exposing the bottoms of my breasts to the world. This could work twofold, considering the baguettes I was on my way to purchasing… did I mention I was on my way to the bakery? It was lunchtime. If the attendant at the bakery liked what they saw, we could have a reenactment of Aerosmith's Crazy music video. This afternoon could still be saved. Then I remembered that I live in a very conservative city and that the lady sales assistants at this bakery are seldom kind to me. Keep reading

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