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I won’t quit my night job. (Deliveries 5/20)

I puttered all four-and-a-half cylinders of Taurus muscle down the street and thought, “I haven’t posted a new blog post in a while.” Because I haven’t delivered in a week.

Last week was Mega Week. Mega Week is something’. Mother’s Day, our Anniversary and Meredith’s Birthday all fall within it. We had a blast. I took Friday off to take Meredith dancing and eat Localmotive.

I could still smell the rounders and frites from that awesome food truck as I hit my turn signal on my way back to the store. It click-clacked back and forth and I thought of something else.

I had forgotten to pray.

I pulled off my hat. “Lord,” I started. I noted the time of evening. “Sorry for not praying sooner. Help me to have a good night. Please bless my wife and girls. I’m going to sit and watch for something to write about. It’s been a while. Thanks for the chance.”

Time passed. It was a great night. Large tips and quick deliveries made for a smooth evening. I saw fun things, met fun people, but nothing out of the ordinary. Not even anything delightfully ordinary. Just… deliveries. I had decided I was going to write about being fed up about food. Or about something else. Heck, I thought, I might even write that story about the one time I saved the family of Hispanic children from abduction with nothing but the pizzas I was carrying and the rail gun in my trunk.

Then it happened.

My second to last delivery of the night sat on the order table. I clocked it out, grabbed the receipt and checked for soda.

No soda, but it did say, “Sing a song to me upon delivery.”

I hiked up the bag and headed to the car. I thought about songs. What could I sing? It had to be perfect. Do I sing something in Spanish? No. All I know are hymns and a little Vicente Fernandez. And I mean little.

What about English hymns? Nah, not upbeat enough.

I was came close to my destination. I was starting to sweat. I hadn’t thought of a song. Do I have her make a request? No, I’m not singing Rihanna. Metallica requires a guitar.

“Lord,” I said, again turning to Him for some help. “What do I sing?”

I thought through a few more ideas, but then a winner hit me. I had just barely hit my turn signal to turn onto her street. I knew what I was going to sing.

I called the customer. I made sure I was in the right place. She was excited that I had arrived earlier than expected. She was actually waiting for me outside. I parked and hopped out when she flagged me down.

We exchanged greetings and I handed her the clipboard.

“And you wanted me to sing, too, didn’t you?”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh my gosh, are you going to do it?” she asked. 

“Well yeah, if you want me to,” I said.

“Oh!” she said. She held a hand up. Then, she grabbed her phone and squared it. And this happened.

I’ve got a long way to go on debt. We’ve got some storm clouds we’re paying for, and such is life. Singing won’t bring in the dough, but I will. PUN INTENDED. I won’t quit my night job. That would NOT be:

ROE INTENSE

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