Yuba City Honda (yet again)

 

I don't stop dreaming about my former place of employment. Usually it is an indication that there is a lack of something in my life which makes me dream about it at night. So, not surprising that I'd be having dreams of my old place job to kind of fill in the need.

 I dreamed I had to go back to work for them, but since I'm no longer qualified to do my previous job, I was hired as an entry level lube tech. I was tasked with training under the lowest of the low. It didn't feel demeaning, it was actually nice to not have the level of responsibility that I did before. So, all I had to do to impress them was to not throw trash on the floor like a common monkey sloth. Sweeping up the floor earned me extra points. Such an easy job!

I noticed that most of the old crew was not present, just a cast of new characters who had come up after I'd left. They were uninitiated in the finer points of shop cleanliness, so I felt a bit superior with my knowledge of a broom and mop. I was contentedly sweeping and self-congratulating when I met up with David Chanh, aka Jackie Chan. He remembered me, of course, and set about to help me reintegrate by showing me around.

There was a new "Day Room," a small token nod to the service department, built during the million dollar makeover which had occurred a couple of years back. There wasn't much in it that hadn't been included in the old lunch room, with the exception of a cheap stereo, which no one had bothered to hook up. I began hooking up the speakers, unraveling the familiar paired wire and attaching the ends to the usual clip-on connections in the back of the receiver. 

"Red is striped, black is plain. Same as usual," I confirmed to myself out loud, with David standing by and watching me, grinning at my simple enthusiasm. "At least we can listen to the radio," I went on, "Or I can bring my little transmitter from home and we can set up our own intercom or radio station. I'll just tune it to 88.1."

That was where I was at when I finally woke up to find myself in my new normal old life, here on the couch. This life seems like a different reality, though it has elements of my old life still in it. I'm still me, my past is still my past and all the old parameters are still in play. But thrown into the mix is this new love interest, my girlfriend, Lesa. See how casually I worked that in there? Not subtle at all. 

It's been just over a month since we've reconnected in earnest, but things have come along so far in that short time. "I love you's" are exchanged regularly, and sharing has gone on at a level unprecedented, even for me, Mr. Oversharer-Guy. Nothing I say seems to faze her, and we both have fallen happily into a dependence on each other's complete and uncritical acceptance and emotional support.

At this point, I'm ready for her to move in with me, though she hasn't even been up to visit yet. She's hinted at possibly Christmas, and suggested that bringing her daughter along would be a part of the "package deal." I don't find that objectionable, since being a part of her daughter's life would be in the cards in the long run anyway. Why not see what the whole package would include, and that way we'd know if it is a good fit for both of us. 

She and her 29 year old daughter currently live together and are extremely close, an inseparable pair. I'm not in the business of separating people from their loved ones, so I say, ok, bring it on. That's just more loved ones for me. If for some reason her daughter hates me, well, that could be a dealbreaker for Lesa. We'd need to find that out, regardless.

In other news, my little LED is back on. I maybe should have led with that noteworthy item, because it is an answer to a troubling feeling I've been having recently. That feeling that I need Sharon's permission move forward, not move on or away from her memory, but to get her approval for my newly blossoming love affair. 

I'd like to think she was somehow ok with it, if not, perhaps even actively promoting it with some behind the scenes string-pulling from beyond the grave. I had a long talk with her, while out walking the other day, begging her to give me some kind of sign to let me know she hadn't abandoned me. So, when I was in the midst of typing a little cute note to my new "girlfriend," what should happen but the LED starts blinking on again.

Superstitious, sentimental me, getting so excited over the intermittent operation of a Christmas strand bulb, I had to share this with Lesa. While not as overtly impressed with my "miracle" as myself, she wasn't put off by my kookiness in the least. She is a sensitive, who is in touch with energies and other things of a subtle and spiritual nature, although her formal religion is Catholicism. We've had a few discussions on religion and our views vary widely on the surface, but there is possibly a common thread in there somewhere.

Anyhow, life calls me. My neighbor Stan has dug up half my property making a trench to bury my electrical conduit for my well pump. All I need to do is finish it bury place the conduit in its forever home, and he can return to back-fill it and patch up my driveway, which is currently impassable. Oh, and I gotta pee. So, bye for now, my neglected and forlorn faithful readership.