Sometimes you have to be flexible.
All my adult life I had wanted a MINI Cooper and I totally got one in 2009, which was awesome and amazing. The MINI itself was cute and small and huggable. Yes, my car was huggable. I hugged it a lot. Do not judge.
However, one day at the post office right around this time of year, I realized that there are certain issues that come with buying a MINI Cooper. I got my mail out of my po box and found a yellow slip that said I had a package.
I thought, “YAY PACKAGE!”
Okay, I actually said, “Yay package!”
And some guy near me murmured, “That’s what she said.”
Then he laughed and laughed and laughed.
Moving on.
I was hoping that it was some sort of present for me, because I am like that. I like presents. A lot. Kind of like the kids in CHRISTMAS STORY. I am like that. Out of all the famous fictional characters out there, I am ashamed to admit that I am the most like Ralphie.
Anyway, I went to the counter and the post office lady who was super nice said, “Oh, Carrie. You have a huge package. Can you come to the side door?”
So I squeed and people laughed and I went to the side door. And there was a package that was as big as me.
“What is it?” I asked, thinking it was maybe a leg lamp or something.
“It’s from Amazon,” she said. “Do you think you can carry it?”
And then I said, “Um….”
And then I said it again, “Um…”
And then she said to another nice post office lady who was pretty strapping looking, “Why don’t you bring it to door 4?”
This was the point where I realized:
- That it wasn’t a present for me. Inside the package were presents for this family that I heard about on the radio who needed help this winter. So, it was a couple comforters (Transformers and Disney) and dolls and Wow Wee Cubs, and an electric razor.
- That it definitely wasn’t a leg lamp.
- That it wasn’t food from Harry and David, which nobody sends me anymore. Sadness.
- That it wasn’t going to be easy fitting it into my MINI.
So, I hopped out of the post office, into my MINI, drove the MINI to the back cargo door. The lady at the door started laughing.
“Oh man…” She grabbed her stomach. “Oh man… How are you going to fit that? Oh man…”
And the thing is… I already had the gear of my daughter Em and her best friend Belle who were both on the swim team crammed in the backseat and I had groceries in the trunk.
“Don’t laugh,” I ordered Laughing Post office Lady. People in the parking lot had now joined her.
“No,” I begged, “Seriously…”
“It’s so ridiculous. Oh my gosh, honey. Hahahahaha,” she said.
Everyone just kept laughing, which was nice because they were happy, but it wasn’t really helping me out.
And then I said, “Hey? Does anyone have a knife?”
At this point everyone stopped laughing because you can’t talk about weapons in public, but some wild-eyed, knife-owning man gave me his knife. I did not turn it on the laughers, I swear. Instead, I slit open the box, took out all the contents and crammed them into my back seat, earning semi-respectful glances from the laughers.
Problem Solved.
This is why if someone wants to send me a leg lamp, it would be much better to send it to my home address.
Tying it all together.
So that story reminded me of us writers drafting our stories. We think we’ve got it all figured out, that we have all the scenes ready and the plot perfect and then we realize that it doesn’t all fit. That we have to rethink things, jam them around, squish them together in different ways and sometimes dismantle things.
Dismantling things can be scary, but sometimes it’s the only way to get everything to fit, right? Don’t be afraid to dismantle, to build something stronger.
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