I wear glasses, peg my jeans, and watch “Gilmore Girls.” Got a problem with that?
When I arrived at work one day last week, I had a message from my friend Julie saying I’d left my glasses at her place, where, the previous night, I’d had dinner (and partaken in the guilty television pleasure referred to in the title).
“I’ll just swing by on my bike ride home and pick them up,” I told her, grateful that I had biked to work instead of taking the train, which wouldn’t afford me the same flexibility. “Say, about 5:30?”
Julie agreed on the pick-up time. The afternoon passed. I got engrossed in a work project and hammered away at it until 5:15 p.m., at which point I remembered not only that I was supposed to pick up my glasses at 5:30 p.m., but that I also needed to pick up items I had on hold at the library, which closed at 6 p.m.
On my bike, I alternated between pedaling as hard as I could to beat the clock and coasting with resignation that I would never fit in both errands:
“You’ll never make it … you have to make it.”
I got to Julie’s. She brought my glasses down. I told her I couldn’t stay because the library was closing and raced off. At home, I heaved my bike up the stairs, grabbed my checked-out library book, and began running to the library. I didn’t even unroll my jeans, which I’d pegged for cycling safety.
Three blocks later, I arrived at the library—and the lights were still on! I tossed my book in the return slot, yanked my items from the hold shelf, and checked myself out at the computer.
As I walked down the library steps, headed for home, I let out a breath, un-pegged my jeans, and smiled.