Tuesday, 8 January 2008

We won't stop until somebody calls the cops, and even then, we'll start again and just pretend that nothing ever happenned

That is from a song by Kimya Dawson from the Juno soundtrack. I heart it... but less so when I can't get it out of my head all day. Just that one line...

This is the story of my quest for a digeridoo (and all before 9:30am). My sister was doing a summative (read: big deal, uptight) project on Australia for her geography class. I suggested she phone up my friend and ask to borrow the digeridoo someone randomly gave to her this one time. My friend, who had just moved into an appartment from her family home and also happens to be like the third daughter of our family, said yes, and we suggested we stop by this morning on the way to school to pick her and the intrument up and cart them to school.

Things started to go downhill at about 8:15, on our way to her appartment in the Market. Now, not normally having to drive in that direction, we didn't realize how dumbfuck the traffic would be. So we were late. After sitting in traffic for a few minutes, watching my sister try really hard not to have an anxiety/panic attack (she does have anxiety problems. Big ones) and my mom freaking out in her own way, I suggested someone call my friend to let her know we were late. Here is the rest of the story via phone conversations:

Call #1-
Me: Hey, we're running a little late, we'll be there soon.
Friend: Oh right! I forgot you were picking me up! Awesome, I'm running late anyway.
Me: *audibly rolls eyes* Ok, we'll be there soon.
Friend: Can you wait 5 minutes? I'm eating breakfast.
Me: Um, no, my sister is about to have a panic attack because she's going to be late for first period.
Friend: Oh, ok. I'll find the digeridoo and see you soon.

Call #2-
Me: Where exactly is your appartment? Which part of Dalhousie?
Friend: Um, problem, I can't find the digeridoo.

[about this point I felt like screaming at said friend but held off for fear of a nuclear-sized eruption in my car.]

Me: Ok, fine. We'll take my sister to school and come get you.

Call #3:
Friend: Yeah, we figured out it got left behind in the move. It's still in my house, in the room across from my room.
Me: Fine.
Friend: Well, I'll bike and see you at school.
Me: Great.

At this point we arrived at school, dropped my sister off and I let my mom in on the situation. I ran inside to hand in a summative, made an excuse about an appointment and ran out again.

Call #4:
Me: Do you have a key that I can get from you to get into your house?
Friend: My dad should be home.
Me: Great.

So my mom and I missioned back to her old house which was right on our way to school instead of completely out of the way like the Market is. Luckily I could shield my sister this time, but she would have failed her first period project if she'd had a panic attack because of that digeridoo. And my friend didn't even think to take a look to see if she had it when we asked for it two days before. Wow, I hate irresponsible, thoughtless friends, especially when they hurt someone I love.

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