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••• Wednesday, July 30, 2003

The Grand Imposition 

I hate buying a car.

I hate the talking, explaining, listening and more explaining ('cause the guy wasn't listening first time) involved in the apparently necessary interactions with sales guys. And I hate the thinking about it.

Here's how I like to buy a car:
1) I see a car that I like.
2) I take it for a test- drive.
3) If I love it I buy it.
4) If I don't love it, I look further.

The process has never done me wrong. Shopping around after finding true love makes no sense to me.

Yesterday, my husband and I had a plan for me to test-drive a vehicle I'd been admiring from afar. The plan was solid, as far as I was concerned. It contained all the elements for a good plan as follows: Marcia's in control. Marcia's making all the decisions. Marcia's still in control.

Don't get me wrong. I'm no control freak. I have no interest in controlling or mastering the lives, decisions or choices of anyone but myself. I'm actually more of an "anti-control freak" in that if someone imposes on my freedom to control my decisions and choices, I freak.

Anyway, the plan included taking the baby along and husband would watch her while I took my chosen vehicle for a spin. It was solid plan, made the night before.

At 8am, my husband announces that there's a change in the plan. Prior to executing the agreed upon plan, we will drive across town to a different car dealership (and where he has a friend who is saleswoman) and test drive a car that I had no interest in driving or purchasing. After that, husband has to call on a die shop where he is doing some contract work. But it will only take a minute (yeah, right. When it comes to idle chatter, a shop of tool-n-die-makers have it all over a nest of magpies). Then we'll drive 25 minutes back to our end of town and follow our original plan. I knew this new spin on the plan would take up to 2 hours to execute and with a toddler in tow, there's no way we would get to or through "my plan" without someone getting hurt.

My response to this new agenda item was colorful, not pleasant and included monkeys flying out of dark, stanky places. Needless to say, we were quickly back to the original plan.

Then my mom calls to invite herself over for a visit. At first annoying, I realized that this imposition might work to my advantage, as she can watch the baby while we go to the car dealership.

We get to the car dealership and go through the imposition of the requisite sales exchange. This exchange was particularly painful because we were assigned "low-salesguy-on-salesguy-totem-pole." I know this because he was not tan, had no sales achievement awards on his desk and on his bulletin board were no "Thank You for Selling me the Car and Making Such a Difference in My Life" note cards from satisfied customers. He also struggled to remember his "lines." He was watched closely by the tan guy sitting at the desk with lots of phallic-shaped awards and thank you notes galore. We finally put the interview out of our misery by cutting him off and asking, again, for a test-drive.

The drive went well. I was in love.

We get home and find out that, my younger sister had called to borrow my car. It was an emergency. Lucky for my sister, my mom answered the phone and had a viable vehicle available. It shouldn't be too long, my mom said, she just had two quick appointments.

Sometimes the imposition gods have other ideas.

I won't bore with unnecessary family-of-origin details but I will say that any time my sister gets a foothold on your life, it's very hard to wriggle free. Long story short, my mom ended up stuck at my house for approximately 5 hours. Sensitive to what appeared to be an imposition on my daily routine, she told me to just go about my business like I normally would.

Then she decided to clean my house. This isn't as wonderful as it sounds, believe me. Where's the mop? Where's the vacuum? What should I do with....what about...? While appreciative of her intentions, I was not able to complete a thought, let alone get about my normal routine.

I finally carved out some time and space for a pilates work out. Mom watched and chatted with me through the entire workout and I ended up working the same leg twice, and the other not at all.

Finally she was gone. And my husband gets a phone call. He hangs up and tells me that his car sales friend has arranged for us to get a brand new car on loan for a two day test drive. He has to leave right now to fetch it. I remind him that I was already in love. He says it won't hurt to test drive another one, it will be as easy as walking to the driveway to do it. And of course, the final decision will be mine.

He also reminds me his folks are coming over at 6:00 so his dad can help him move some furniture. This means I need to get dinner on by 5:15, prior to which need a quick trip to the store. Husband promises he won't be long, but he is. When I finally get dinner on, it's 5:50 and in-laws are pulling in. They stand around and watch us eat, although dad eventually caves and sits down to join us.

By 8:00 our home office furniture is completely dismantled and being moved to my husbands office. At 8:30 in-laws are gone and By 9:00 baby's in bed and I've taken my test drive to the party store for some sorely needed rum and coke.

And finally it's my time. Blogging Time. Email time. And no more impositions. Vanilla rum has smoothed out some edges. I'm a new person, as I walk into the office expecting to hear the assuring hum of the computer and see the inviting glow of the monitor.

But's it's quiet and dark. There's no desk. The keyboard has been beheaded. Large computer parts separated from smaller ones. All on the floor. I yell. My tired husband offers to get the replacement table set up asap. But I'm not that wicked or selfish. Although I did consider the offer.

This final imposition allowed me time to finish the back of the Berroco turtle, and I started the front. However, at this point I was knitting under the influence (KUIL), so soon will be ripping out a couple of rows of wobbly wibbing.

About the visiting vehicle, I like it okay, but it's not love. It's a safer model (has a truck frame), however, and out the door will be much cheaper than the love object, due to 0% financing. And, as my husband pointed out (with an evil grin), after two days of driving it, I'm likely to get attached. My DNA will be all over the place.

Nothing like the imposition of one's own pecularities.

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# posted by Marcia @ 9:49 AM


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