Carefree

14 01 2007

I know a very care-free lady. I also know what I like to call this care-free lady. Her name is spelled A-U-N-T-Y. Aunty. Yep, that’s my aunt, all right. She is very carefree. So carefree.

The previous time she was evident of being carefree was when she was going to her boss’s daughter’s wedding. She had promised her boss she would be there to give his daughter a lovely bunch of flowers.

But she thought it was in the University Of Houston! She hurried and drove and hurried over to the University of Houston just in time. She opened the door and there was no one there.

No, let me rephrase that: She tried to open the door, but she couldn’t because it was locked.

Yep, that was what happened. She tried to open the door, but there was no one was there! And the reason?  It wasn’t even in the University Of Houston. She had gone to the wrong place because she didn’t even take the time to look it up or even ask.

So then he did something my dad, my mom, or I would never even think about: she went to the library and looked it up on a computer. Strange. I would be doing phone calls, but she went on the Internet and searched. Finally, she realized it was in some wedding center downtown. DOWNTOWN! That was almost a hour away.

By the time she got to the wedding center, the concert was already over, and the daughter and some man who was probably handsome or so had already married. Everyone was just about to leave. My aunt stood there holding the lovely bunch of flowers.

All of a sudden, her boss walked up to her. “Hello! Did you like the concert?”

My aunt thought and then said, “I absolutely loved it! The music, the players; who would play such beautiful music?”

Her boss was pleased because he thought she had paid the fee and listened to the music concert. My aunt handed him the flowers and said, “Well, I’ve got to go now. Tell your daughter to have a wonderful [gooey (mushy) stuff]. Bye!” And then she left.

She felt really guilty after that, but was proud of herself because she didn’t have to pay for it and her boss thought she did. She bragged to everyone she knew. On her own blog, she wrote about it and some people replied, “Naughty boy… I mean, Naughty lady!”

And that was just the previous time. But this time, it was for something she actually wanted to go to: a karaoke party by her friends. And it was today.

She knew about that party for weeks.

And for weeks she asked no one, absolutely no one, about the location. Until this morning. She called my house and said, “Do you know where the party is? It’s Jackre Center, I think.”

And to this my father replies, “Are you sure it’s not Jacker Center?”

“I think it’s not. Anyway, just tell me where Jackre Center is.”

Jackre Center was a big Chinese center that could fit thousands of people inside and was very busy and they were going to let some tiny group of people reserve it’s best hour? Not very possible. But he said, “It’s near Chinatown.”

And then my aunt hung up.

Around one o’clock the karaoke had started. My aunt had left at twelve-thirty and she was still not there. Suddenly, my aunt called.

“The karaoke is not here! They told me Jack-something and it’s not here!”

My mom broke into the call. “I tried to tell you it’s not at Jackre Center and that it’s at Jacker Center.”

Sure enough, when we called one of the other participants of the karaoke party, they said it was Jacker Center.

Oops.

My aunt thought she should ask where it is. So she asked, “So where is this Jacker Center?”

“It’s closer from where you live, and from Chinatown? That’s about forty minutes. Furthermore, you already scheduled to pick up some stuff from a friend in Chinatown,” my aunt replied.

Bad luck for my aunt this time. She was in the exact opposite place of where she wanted to be. And then my mom emphasized that, “It would be closer by twenty minutes or so if you just went from where you live to Jacker Center.”

So by the time she drove across to the other side of Houston where the party was, it was almost over. And this time, it was not trying to trick her boss. She had missed her friend’s karaoke party. My aunt’s husband had taken a vacation break from work (and he had the kind of work where it’s “no work, no pay”). She herself had taken a long time for makeup. And now they had missed most of it.

The first time she missed most of it was just bad, but it got changed into good because she didn’t want to go there in the first place. But this time, most of it was bad, and it got changed into NOTHING because she wanted to go and she missed most of it.

So the moral? Plan ahead. At my church, there is a man who plans things very well. On a trip to Yellowstone, he had given everyone a folder. Each folder contained about sixty to seventy pages. My dad had opened it, and he was overwhelmed with approximate time and driving directions so precise it told you to “watch out for the exit sign that you will see in 1:05 minutes” and that “the sign is green”.

But the person who planned well was in the other group that went to Yellowstone. They were to meet us in the end. But our group did not have such a person, and each day we ended up driving from seven in the morning to one in the night because of wrong roads.

Sp remember to be careful, because the first time you just happen to have some “good bad luck”, it may be “bad bad luck” next time. Be careful!

Oh, yeah, if this story sounds like you, or is you (mind you, aunty!), then I bet I just pointed something you didn’t want to admit. So stumbling on this article: is it good bad luck or bad bad luck or good good luck or bad good luck…

???????????

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