Landlines are for the Happy

The forecast says it will rain until Tuesday of next week and it's barely noon on Friday, so the usual four day Thanksgiving weekend weather is crap. It is a grey, wet and cold, black Friday. It will be solely up to me to make the best of it.  I am by myself, as I usually am on the weekends, sitting, sipping sumatra at the restaurant I used to own, trying to figure out what to write about.

I have lots of memories from the Wolf, a business that was part of another company that I haphazardly built out of nothing more than good timing and the psychosis that I thought I knew I what was doing--thought I was cut out for the life of an entrepreneur. I had a good run, 15 years, and lots of memories. I sold all of it for no other reason than I was just simply tired of the complicated lifestyle. I had gotten there, had been there long enough, I thought.

The best memory I have of being in business is the day I walked out the door of my office for the last time--having cleaned out my desk and handed over my keys.  It was the end of something great and the beginning of something new (or vice versa). I do wish either one of the two would reveal themselves soon.  It would be nice to have something to look forward to.  It's like finding enrichment on this rainy holiday weekend.  It is solely up to me.

This is what we do; hurry to plan, plot and navigate the things we strive for;  taking risks, building relationships, losing relationships; working on the future without a whole lot of time spent on the present.  So when the present comes, we risk being disappointed.  So here is a cliche: it's about the journey; a collection of vignettes that make up our happiest experiences; often the simplest things that yield the best memories.

-------

Today I will gather my shirts and take them to Happy Cleaners!  I could use some "happy" and there certainly isn't anything more satisfying than knowing I have an a fresh batch of neatly pressed shirts to choose from upon the arrival of another upcoming workweek. It is indeed, about the future and I am purposed, temporarily, to accomplish this task.  

A bell rings upon my entry to Happy Cleaners.  The window looking through the front counter gives way to the many tables and presses with steam seeping from hoses and hundreds of shirts hanging, waiting to be picked up by their owners.  Thon, I call him, comes out from behind the presses and greets me with a big smile and the familiar kind words, as he always does--out from behind where he stands all day, every day but Sunday, from 7:00 AM until 7 PM.  He knows my account number, an old telephone number, and plugs it into the conveyor that rotates and delivers 20 or so heavily starched shirts.  

Thon knows it's an old telephone number from years ago, from one of the old houses, miles away from Happy Cleaners and years away from me being able to afford the use of a dry cleaner. It occurs to me that I probably sold that house for the same reason I sold the business. And I am not sure if landlines even exist anymore. 

Thon rings up the usual 30 or 40 bucks worth of shirts and I wrestle them into the car.  He returns to the steam and I drive away looking to find something more to do.  #ifyouknowhatimtalkinbout. #theralphaccount #ralphpfremmer.com