Damsel in Distress

I've fallen and I don't feel like getting up (I'm tired)

I’m coming at you live with antihistamines, steroids, and antibiotics coursing through my veins. That’s right, my cute bee sting has caused what medical professionals are calling “a delayed allergic reaction and possible infection.” This is fitting, though, because I love surprise parties.

I want to talk about my day yesterday. A day in which I planned to go home to Maryland and instead drove up and down the NJ Turnpike to end up at an Italian grocery store. Buckle up, readers, because riveting newsletter posts like this will not exist in 30 years due to the impending climate crisis.

I started the day like any girl would, eating avocado toast over the sink so I didn’t have to wash a plate. Then I got in my car and headed to Maryland. I made it about an hour down the Turnpike when my mom called to tell me MD had just been added to the covid travel advisory list. This is tricky because I’m starting my new job in person on Monday, so I can’t risk being exposed to covid beforehand. It’s also tricky because our country has no national response to a virus that has killed over 190,000 people. I cannot wait to repost the Instagram infographic that eradicates the virus once and for all.

About 20 minutes into my return trip, I heard a thumping noise. I looked in my side mirror to see what happened and the trim of my front wheel hole cap thing (car guys, fact check me on this) came partially off and was flapping in the wind. I panicked, remembering the last time I had highway trauma was when I ran out of gas on a 4 lane highway going to the beach on memorial day last year. It is the only time I’ve ever called 911 and I will never regain my family’s respect.

I pulled off the highway into Cranbury, NJ. I didn’t know what to do so I pulled into a parking lot and was immediately greeted by a 1.5 inch long hornet. I will not be stung twice in a week, I am not spiderman and I’ve had enough venom. Given my recent history with bees, I ran back into my car and sort of asked, to nobody in particular, why?

Once I was back in my car I headed to the nearest hardware store. 

If you don’t know me well, know that I am the type of person who immediately gets helped in a hardware store. Cranbury NJ is famous for holding George Washington's headquarters while he was planning for the Battle of Monmouth, and not famous for Jamesburg Hardware and Appliance store. When I told the employee that I “broke my car” he looked at me with such pity I thought he might propose on the spot. Thankfully, a woman named Diane came over to assist and told me to get Gorilla Tape for my car flap. My early twenties so far have had a lot less sex and fun and a lot more taping car flaps than I had predicted.

So Diane and I sat on the road and duct taped my car together. She mentioned that she didn’t want to get hit by a car and I nodded in agreement. Then I was off, back to Brooklyn, and I navigated to the Italian grocery store in Bensonhurst that my friend recommended. I walked in, stress purchased 7 bags of imported pasta and canned tomatoes, and left. 

I did not have a bad day. It was just different than planned. Sort of like losing my virginity in a luxury high rise in Michigan. My day ended with me cooking pasta and gazing tenderly at my swollen bee toe. I’m grateful for my mother’s health insurance, my Italian friend’s knowledge on pasta brands, and people like Diane. In the future, I’m going to need to find a better fix for my car than tape. In the meantime, I’m eating grated pecorino romano with a spoon. Ciao!