A Swingin' Mood

Lately, my moods have been changing more often than a neat-freak's bedsheets. They've been like a ship without an anchor, tossed about on the waves of circumstance. This past week in particular has been a roller coaster ride.

---

With gas prices once again climbing past the 2 dollar mark here in happy NorCal, I was hoping that my transportation's mechanical troubles were over. But as I drove towards school one day this week, I knew that it was not to be. Pulling out of my driveway, I pressed the gas pedal, began accelerating to 55, and realized that my transmission was not shifting.

Instantly, my mood changed. From looking forward to a half hour of listening to country hits and pushing my car to its limits, I was thrown into the deepest doldrums of dollar deduction. I began mentally ticking off the greenbacks. Visions of $500, $1000, and then $1500 repairs began marching through my mind.

Sadly, I turned my car back toward home. I would just have to miss school today; hopefully the prof would understand, but I doubted it.

When I walked through the door, I was greeted with a big smile from my mom. "Class got out early? Wonderful! You can clean your room today."

Still wallowing in a slough of self-pity, I slowly dragged my feet down the hallway to my bedroom. There's a reason we don't allow guests back there. I was accustomed, comfortable even, with the sight that greeted me, but it only served to further my depression. Books and papers were piled high on a desk and dressers, clothes were scattered across the floor and bed, candy wrappers leftover from last year's Valentine's day lay heaped in one corner, and cobwebs hung from every cranny of the ceiling.

I sat down on my bed, instantly exhausted by the sight. For a good 10 minutes, all I could do was look around and stare at the mess. Finally, some resolve began to form in my little finger, and I slowly moved my hand to pick up a t-shirt that lay on the floor. I folded it and set it next to me. I repeated these actions until all the clothes had been folded and then put them away in my dresser. Turning around, I noticed something shiny lying just under my bed. I stooped down and picked it up.

Instantly, I became elated. It was my John Williams' Greatest Hits CD! I thought we had lost it in our last move, but here it was, in all of its shiny wonderfulness. Freshly energized with renewed energy, I popped the disc in my stereo and set about sorting the papers that lay scattered around.

As the glorious notes of Schindler's List and Home Alone soared through the air and reverberated against my ear drums, I mechanically shuffled the various documents...trash, school stuff, trash, bank statement, school, trash, paystub, trash, trash...wait, what's this? My hand closed around an envelope that I'd never opened. The return address said "California DMV." Uh-oh.

I quickly tore it open and began scanning the pages. "Registration overdue. Must pay $300.00 by February 2, 2009." Oh dear, that was yesterday! "Or car will be seized and impounded." OH NO! Even though my car wasn't operating properly, it was still my only means of transportation. Losing it meant being grounded 40 miles from the nearest major city. Frantic, I ran outside, only to see a tow truck leaving our driveway, my car trundling along behind it.

The notes of John Williams' music forgotten, I dejectedly sat down on our front step and cried. How could my day have gone so horribly wrong? I decided I was in need of a nap, but as I got up and turned my feet toward the front door, I remembered the mess that awaited me in my room. Granted, it wasn't as bad as before, but it was hardly conducive to rest.

Emotionally and physically drained, I decided to sleep on our trampoline. And that's what I did. Until my younger brothers came and started bouncing, ruthlessly returning me to reality.