I think the D is broken...

Isn't that always the way, that your warranty expires and all of the problems just manifest themselves in a span of time that rivals how quickly small children can get into mischief. I mean, you barely turn around and -bam- the 'd' button no longer works and the spacebar makes horrible clicking noises like it's trying desperately to ride an imaginary pony without the coconut shells for effect. Everyone knows- you need coconut shells to ride an imaginary pony.

I work in customer service, and every single person who calls in about some sort of problem gets all up in arms when they discover that they have to exchange their device due to some sort of malfunction. It's not even the fact that they have to actually exchange it, but more the fact that 'You mean I'm going to get a refurbished phone/tablet/husband/dog/universal remote'? 

Of course you are. You're going to get a refurbished phone/tablet/universal remote/spaceship/BB gun/kitten because you've USED yours, and we aren't giving you a brand new phone/tablet/universal remote/key to the city/refrigerator/hissing cockroach. Because yours wasn't brand new, so why on earth should you get a brand new one? 

And why do you have to pay for it? Five dollars or twenty, six buttons or six hundred buttons? Doesn't matter- it costs to do it. Some poor worker somewhere has to take your gunky disgusting phone/tablet/book light/pizza pan/shoulder massager and actually take it apart to fix it. So you might have sneezed on it, your schnauzer might have peed on it, and you may have herpes...so they have to charge a fee. It's minor, and if you're being given a replacement for free...you shouldn't argue. Because that's much better than an insurance deductible.

That's another thing: insurance deductibles. If you got insurance for your iPad and your iPad gets stolen by some thug who just wants to use it to buy his baby mama some bling on ebay...well, you're going to file a claim. And the insurance company is going to ask you for some money, because you may only have been paying for your insurance for a few months, and there's no way you've been paying enough to cover the replacement of any sort of iDevice.

And if you go to the doctor, unless you're under twenty-five and/or have REALLY GOOD INSURANCE, you're going to pay a deductible. It may not be much...but even the ER has at least a $100.00 deductible. Same goes for car insurance, pet insurance, and pretty much every type of insurance you can think of...or I can think of.

So the moral of this story is: nothing is free. NOTHING. It's probably going to happen whether you like it or not, and the 'd' button will stop working when it *amned well pleases (see what I did there?), and the only thing to be done is to realize the universe is out to get you and pay up. If you can't pay up, then clearly you bit off more than you could chew in owning an e-device or universal remote shaped like the Sonic Screwdriver of the 10th doctor....and you may have to go back to the crappy old universal remote they sell at the local Massively Ridiculous Mart for all of five dollars. 

Pay your deductible, pay your warranty fee, and just be grateful you're not paying another five hundred dollars for a replacement phone/remote car starter/robot dog.

Just A Little At A Time

    I'm sorry to say that I let my daily moods get in the way of my desire to write something once a day. You can't force it, I suppose. But I felt weirdly inspired to let loose with this random piece now, so here you are. Something that just came to mind.

~~~~~~~

     "How do you take your coffee?"
     "Black," She replied, "Like my soul. But maybe sometimes it's a little bit tan, like the tired parts when it's worn almost to the brink of holes."
     "You're not serious."
     "Of course I am." She looked at him blankly for a moment, then furrowed her brow as she considered exactly what it was she was saying about herself with that statement. Or what she was hinting at, how odd she was. "But I'm not that strange, I promise. Just...once in a while. I get a little deeper than I probably should."
     "Who is it, exactly, that's setting the bar for normal, anyway?" 
     "I suppose I thought it was you, just now. The way you answered me when I told you about my soul. Sometimes, when I get hopeful about a situation, I picture myself as a tiny person...the size of a Borrower, maybe. Jumping up and down with joy on those worn spots, and any minute now they're going to break and I'll fall through. That happiness, it's going to fall through right with me. And then there's nothing left to be happy about, with a great big gap in my soul."
     "Well, I wasn't really setting the bar for anything. I just thought it was an odd statement to make, coloring your soul like that. Most people are pure white or black as coal- there's no middle ground involved. And most people certainly don't compare their souls to anything worn out."
     "I feel like I am. After that last relationship, when I laid it all out on the table and bore my soul like a yard of fabric, he cut right through it before I could even measure what I was worth. It cost me plenty, I can tell you that. I'm broken in a way I don't know can be fixed, and even if there is a way to fix it I couldn't possibly tell you where to start. Sometimes I think I miss having someone fluff my pillows...and sometimes I think I'd really rather fluff them myself."
     "How did we get on the subject of fluffing pillows?"
     "How did we ever get off the topic of coffee? You asked how I take it- I think, today, that I'll take it with just a little cream. No sugar."
     "Sweet enough?" 
     "Hardly." She put her hand over the cup before he could lift the spoon from the sugar bowl, shaking her head at the look on his face that indicated he intended to question the subject further. "I can't do sugar these days- one too many Wilfred Brimley commercials. If I ever get diabeetus I think I'd just throw myself under a bus. Diabetes, on the other hand- that doesn't sound so incredibly deadly."
     "He always did have a way of making that word sound so much more foreboding."
     "He really did. And ever since I saw his commercials as a child I refused so much as a Dum Dum, for fear I'd wake up one morning with a bushy salt-and-pepper mustache and a desire to walk around with a sort of hangdog look on my face. 'Hi, my name is Polly, and I have diabeetus.'"
     "Well, Polly, I can tell you that one spoonful of sugar isn't going to usher you into the first stage of diabeetus, but I can respect your choice. All the same, I think I'll be taking a few spoonfuls of sugar myself."
     "And I respect your choice as well, Paul. But I'd certainly like to know more about you. How do you take your coffee?"
     "Well, we've established sugar. And otherwise...black. Black, with just a hint of sugar to say that my soul isn't quite a lost cause, but possesses just a touch of sweet innocence. Pure cane sugar mixed in with the acidic wash of what makes me who I am."
      "And that is?"
      "A man who takes his life just as he takes his coffee. Open to additions, open to adding just a bit more to broaden my palate. I'm looking to live a life that has room for change."
      "And I'm afraid to add sugar to my coffee. But," She fell quiet, thoughtful, manicured fingers tapping lightly against the tabletop as she gazed into the ripples her actions sent across the surface of her coffee. After a moment her hand lifted, curled the same fingers around the handle of the sugar spoon, and she trickled it's contents into the ripples, disrupting them. "I can say with certainty that I'm ready to try."
      "Just a little at a time?"
      "Just a little at a time."