Somewhere between the cabin of the Charlotte flight, the Burger King, the bathroom and the gate to Memphis, I lose my shoulder bag. It's probably on the flight. I'm too tired to think straight. Too fat to sleep. Too tired to exercise. My suitcase made my original flight, so it was waiting for me at baggage claim, where I reported the lost shoulder bag. The suitcase handle tore off in my hand. The Enterprise rent-a-car van driver moved my suitcase four feet for a tip, bout counseled me that all my stuff could be replaced. The Enterprise salesman double-teamed me to try to upgrade me to a jeep, then walked out to my Kia with a Hyundai key, said, "I dunno, there may be something wrong with that car" and gave me the Jeep for free. We'll see. I use my cell phone GPS to make it to my dad's house. The only tolerable radio station is this lady who reads books with no commercial interruption.
Dad's wife can't explain how to get to Wal-Mart, so I navigate with the GPS on my phone. Wal-Mart doesn't make the lenses onsite, so I'm just gonna hafta squint at the GPS.
I buy the GPS and go to the Wal-Mart McDonald's for a salad. It tastes like a cigarette. I make the shopping list for staying at Dad's. Laundry detergent, because they always need it. Four towels, because my siblings are coming and there are never enough towels. Dish soap which will double as bath soap as they usually have neither. Oh, and Dad's wife needs a shower curtain liner.
I'm in a Wal-Mart on Highway 64 in Memphis and There Is No God.
