Tales from the Steppes

2004-02-26

9:50 p.m.
Spin the bottle of fate

I have been thinking about that phrase "paybacks are a bitch." It is one that I have often seen occur and have actually put into action myself. But sometimes our karma catches up with us and we have no idea what we did to deserve a particular sequence of events. Wouldn't it be cool that when this happens we are granted an awareness of what we did to deserve our fate? Then we could at least have the pleasure of our memories of some particular badness. I know I would feel much better. "Ah yes, this traffic jam is payback for that time I ignited a whole canister of bottlerockets on Lady X's front yard." But no, we are not granted this flash of higher sight.

Right now I am hoping that I did something that was a lot of fun to make up for this current boil on the ass that is my life. (Ok, I know I am really exaggerating with this whine. This is less than a one on the Richter scale. But there is no fun in bitching about anything over a 3.) So now, I am not only spending my weekend in Ocean City, but I am driving most of my group there and back. Up until, oh, 2 hours ago, I was planning on leaving at 5 am and driving over in the bug. I had actually wrapped myself around this and was looking forward to it. Sort of. A road trip in a fun car. A night by myself in a hotel. Back in time for MMs part. Not too bad.

But then I got an email from another student asking for a lift. His house is on the way. No big deal. He could deal with my schedule and his company is not egregious. Then came the call from a group of students in Baltimore. Would I drive an hour out of my way to pick them up? I'd rather not, thank you very much. (This is the male Indian architecture contingent that have been plaguing me in this class.) They call back a little later. Somehow, they can manage to get to the first student's house. Will I give them a lift from there? Hrrm. No graceful way to say no. They have no car of their own and this is a group project. I can either suffer through their superiority or do all of the work myself. After all, *they* have their theses to write. Arrrgh. And then the coup de grace. Another Indian architecture student needs me to pick her up fron another place, as she has no car, so that she can join this extravaganza.

Now if anyone of these students had bothered to respond to my email, of many days ago, suggesting that we figure out our transportation, I would not be so annoyed. But the night before?!? So now I am driving a minivan of graduate students, instead of my fun little car. Perhaps I will bring along little samplers of hygiene products. Like say, deodorant? (That one I know I will pay for in the future, but since I didn't actually say it to them, it will probably be only worth an inconvenient run in my pantyhose before a major presentation. But it is true. Mitigating circumstances, I cry!) And I have to share my hotel room. And deal with my professor's wrath when he discovers that none of his students are staying through to the end of his itenerary. (I actually had the Indian contingent call him to advise him that this would occur if they rode with me but he was not home.)

So now, as I am preparing to go clean the petrified french fries out of the minivan, I am merely left to wonder about just what it was that I did. Even if I have forgotten, I am sure that someone else will remember and remind me of it. I just hope that I really enjoyed myself. Of course, I could keep the ball rolling by committing an act of evil while paying back for the previous act. Isn't that like robbing Peter to pay Paul? My karmic interest will keep compounding until a tremendous act of irony occurs, thus wiping the slate clean. But not this weekend, I hope.