I never told you about this, actually, but I am so glad this happened as early as this morning. If she is reading this, she may well smile. Unless it is pressingly urgent, I never apply my mind to work or caseloads over the weekend. I leave everything until the next Monday morning. It is a wonderful habit I have practiced since my first year away from my childhood home at university. I rise promptly at four am to begin my proceedings for the week, usually a busy one. Sunday nights have always been calm affairs for me and I am usually quite tired from the previous Saturday and the week that preceded it.
That being said, I usually have a good night’s sleep and there is little that can deter me, not even my shallow conscience, from a deep, languorous sleep. Anyway, one of my clients surprisingly sent me an email reminder over a pressing job that was now outstanding. It related to my undertaking to complete the signing off of documents for her in the absence of one of my paralegal clerks who was initially tasked with this matter. Fortunately, this client, a longstanding one, remained both kind and patient, even venturing to wish me a very good weekend.
She unwittingly reminded me of what I had originally planned to do for that weekend which is now past. My plan of action was to climb into my jeep and drive down the road that takes one directly into our countryside which is still showing deep-seated signs of a rather harsh winter. Before the new week began, I was also determined to take a drive back into town. That would have been done over the Sunday morning just past. I was determined to find the old judge and press him once more about an original offer to purchase his metallic blue Porsche Carrerra.
Needless to say, he was not sold on this matter when I first broached it to him. Keeping him together during his golden years, the two-seater remains his one and only pride and joy. He seemed bemused over my demands to prise his car keys from him, seeing as I already have a Jeep and Jaguar standing in my garage. What can I say, I am a greedy woman. I feel that the car completes me. It even makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I do not think that at this stage it is entirely appropriate to complete my narrative on how the car truly makes me feel, more out of respect to the readers.
But, of course, I would dearly love to tell you. Perhaps I will find another more appropriate forum for me to describe in detail my fetish for cars. There is no rush. I feel a lot more wholesome inside when preoccupying myself with my own thoughts, entirely by myself, and with only my car for company. Jeep, Jaguar or otherwise, my seats are leather. Contrary to what experts say about going with upholstered interiors instead, I prefer my leather. It is real and I can smell it.
And this is one chore I love doing all by myself. Shining and polishing my seats. Another thing, I fantasize about being stuck along the road and having to get out and see to the engine or change a flat tyre. But it remains a fantasy because, of course, in reality, this never happens. But, say that it did, while I would certainly be able to change the spare, I do not have a clue on how to tune an engine.