There's a good story in here somewhere

Serendipity day. So much. Driving to an organic farm 2 hours away tomorrow to see Birdie. WTF.

Trying to find the bobeche(s) to finish my chandelier already.
Shmoozing and being businessy with the people at the lighting and antiques stores.
I have a part number now for my bobeche, but it was discontinued, so I have to find somewhere that still has it in stock.
Going to stop at a thrift store just to see if there was anything good and instead finding two school-aged kids worrying over a wounded dove in the parking lot. How do you leave a wounded dove? It couldn't fly away but it clearly wasn't dying as it struggled in terror and frustration. With my advanced knowledge of all matters avian (on a clear day I can almost tell the difference between a bird, a plane, and Superman) I went to my car to see if I had a box or something useful, came back with a pillowcase and asked the kids to go find a box. They spotted small flat soda crates behind the Walgreens. The bird and we fluttered helpless and hapless around the parking lot. I'd put my purse down a few feet away, so when a gruff looking man came down the street I watched him more closely than the dove.
"Whatcha got there, a chicken?" he asked.
"No..." and in a flash the man grabbed the bird in his hand.
I flinched and thought he had crushed it, but when I looked back he held the now calm bird in his single fist.
"Where do you want it?" he asked.
Without words or thought I wrapped the dove in the pillowcase and put it in the crate. The children stared.
"It'll die in there. Suffocate," he said.
I tried to get it loose and near the opening of the pillowcase. It flapped, I pulled the pillowcase around its body so it couldn't flap and flutter anymore. I was afraid I'd killed it, or was killing it. I told the children I'd take it to the animal hospital.
411 was useless for "nearest animal hospital that takes birds," so I drove to Petsmart. I knew this particular Petsmart had a vet because I had a coupon at home for a free vet check-up there for my dog. I told myself a vet would have at least some basic background in general wounded animal care and know better what to do than I did. The drive was short and I rolled down the windows and wondered if I wasn't making things worse by interfering, that maybe the bird would have made its way somewhere safe and been better off without the human intervention, or it would have been picked off by something higher on the food chain...but how do you leave a wounded dove???
Petsmart wouldn't treat the dove. They only deal with cats and dogs. But they had the information for Chicago Exotics Animal Hospital.
Back in the car. I started talking to the doveling. Started saying "my little doveling."
A 300 lb woman with a rat crawling around her shoulders was standing in the waiting room. Am I crazy? Is this what I am? The crazy lady who picks up every wounded butterfly and treats it like its a child or contains the entire world or somehow gives importance to an otherwise meaningless life?
I had to sign a form that said I relinquished rights to the wild dove, blah blah blah. They took it in back, gave it a little Valium and somewhere to get comfortable before the vet would do a full check-up whenever she had a break between scheduled patients. They told me to go home. They have my information. I said I'd take the dove home if that's what needs to happen. My dog will love that. I don't really know anything about bird care, but this story ends with the bird ending up my new awesome pet or the bird gets nursed back to health by the vet's wildlife people or the bird gets put to sleep or I end up in possession of the bird but gift it to someone else who doesn't have a crazy dog and/or knows something about birds. It's a beautiful dove. Gray, not white, but beautiful. And so calm in my hands with the pillowcase between us when we stood waiting at both vet's desks.

This is the kind of story people make up. I have trouble believing it wasn't a dream. Especially the random man who just grabbed the bird like he was catching a falling egg. It was incredible. He just happened to be walking past and had either the instinct or the experience necessary for dove catching. Am I dreaming? Have I fallen off the deep end and today was one giant hallucination? Entirely possible.

I wanted to call to check in on the dove but kept extremely busy.
Post-dove:
Walgreens to refill prescriptions
Getting car fixed. Windshield wiper fluid wasn't making it all the way to the squirty things. Looked like a super-easy fix. Turned out to be a semi-easy fix. Total cost: $0
Condo meeting. Re-evaluating my place in the universe yet again. The other owners are all very white, moneyed, pay for someone else to do it "right." Nice people. Very nice. But I felt so alien in much of the conversation. Bourgeois. White white white. So white. I can shmooze with them, but it's shmoozing, not talking. It's not comfortable. Where do I fit in? Need to examine more and write more when I didn't just have the longest day ever and plan on driving to Buttfuck, IL and back tomorrow.

I went to the beach with my dog, too. Sat, relaxed, worked on my breathing and biofeedback relaxation techniques.

I went to the bar after the meeting and smoozing because I wanted beer and something human. Possible Boy was half asleep already. Neighbor Guy was actually there, too, digging into some poor woman who didn't want to talk but he eventually got her discussing her husband's recent infidelity or something like that. The regulars played a lively game of pool. I wondered how to topple The Establishment from the inside.

I've been going all day. I wasn't tired until about 20 minutes ago and now I'm too tired to make sense of anything and I keep misspelling and mistyping everything. Motherfuckers.

Goodnight.