Scene: Mamie, standing in blustering wind in a Midwestern, middle-class cul-de-sac with baggage strewn around their van, is watching Solly, up on a stool outside on the passenger side, fiddling with the car-top carrier’s attachment to the roof rack.
Mamie (hands at waist, elbows out): Solly, what’s happening here? Have you lost your mind?
Solly (wrenching at the carrier straps): Hello from the view up top.
M: Aren’t you packing the van?
S: I am.
M (waving a hand at the baggage): You’re UN-packing the van. How does this constitute progress?
S (freeing one strap, working on the other): I have to repack to get it all in.
M: Two days ago, you insisted on packing baggage to leave for home.
S: You packed your luggage nicely.
M: Furthermore, you insisted I reorganize the van. I pulled everything out and arranged by putting stuff we wouldn’t need being furthest in, and stuff we would need being closest to the hatch.
S (picking up the footstool, moving to the opposite van door): Well done.
M: You insisted it couldn’t block the rearview mirror. No airspace wasted.
S (freeing one latch): Your excellent Tetris rearrangement skills are awesome.
M: I burned 2-1/2 hours in the freezing cold on what’s now all scattered around out here like an uncertain audience.
S (moving to the other latch): Conditions change.
M: How?
S: We have to unload the car-top carrier. Take the folding chairs.
M: Why are we unloading when we’re leaving this morning?
S (handing them down): Take these clothes bags.
M (putting them at curbside): Why?
S: I’m taking down the car-top carrier.
M: …WHY…??
S: Whistling.
M: What whistling?
S: We drove to Woodman’s yesterday to get ice and Kringle for friends back home.
M (grabbing): Watch it. The car-top carrier is slipping off!
S: Got it. Walk it forward off the front…there…around to the back of the van. Now, down.
M: Even though we should be leaving RIGHT NOW, you’ve completely unpacked us, including taking the car-top carrier off.
S: Anyway, on the way to Woodman’s, the car-top carrier was whistling.
M: So?
S: I can’t stand going cross-country with the car-top carrier moaning. Bring it this way.
M: You said whistling. What are we doing?
S: Whistling, moaning, whatever. Can’t travel with sounds from the beyond. Into the van, it goes.
M: It, meaning the car-top carrier.
S: Right. Shove it this way.
M (shoving): No whistling or moaning occurred on the 800-mile trip out here.
S: But then we took it off while we stayed with family for 2-1/2 weeks. Van had enough seats for everybody. But the emptied car-top carrier had to come down.
M: To reduce gas consumption? There, it’s in now.
S: Sure. Less wind resistance. So, it went back on top when we were ready to leave for our next stop.
M: No whistling or moaning coming here.
S: Warm day. No wind.
M: So, the wind yesterday on the way to Woodman’s, …
S (frowning): I couldn’t stand listening to whistles and moans, not for 8 blocks, certainly not for 800 miles.
M (musing): It must have been seated differently when we left home. Why didn’t you deal with this yesterday instead of waiting until we were supposed to leave half an hour ago?
S: Never mind. Now, all we have to do is repack the car-top, I mean the car floor, carrier.
M (shaking her head): Not me.
S: We have to get stuff this back into the van.
M: There is no ‘we’ in ‘you.’ Repack the inside-the-car carrier with stuff we won’t need going home. Pack the stuff we’re going to need around it.
S (cluelessly): You’re not going to help?
M: I already packed everything once. You unpacked everything but my point.
S: …You’re going inside…?
M: I’m having coffee while explaining to our hostess why we’re late leaving. Implicit return on 2.5 hours invested in somebody else’s frivolous packing decisions.
S (gazing toward the heavens, throwing up his hands): …Sometimes she just leaves me speechless….!
About the author: Linda Lemery llemery@gmail.com welcomes reader comments.
