"What?" she said. "Where are we again?"
"The Aunts, of course," I said. "I'm under another curse."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said.
I was astounded. Could she really be that clueless? I mean I had arrived back home only yesterday evening and we spoken of the major events of my road trip already. Is it possible, I wondered that she didn't realize how sorely my soul had been tried?
"I speaking of my trip to Macon, of course, and the tribulations visited on my head by the Aunts. Perhaps you didn't notice the capital 'A' when I mentioned them earlier. The capital 'A' indicates that I refer to the Fate sisters."
"Oh," she said and I realized that she still didn't grasp the gist of the thing.
"You are well aware, Wonder, that when you think everything is going swimmingly and that the world is a perfect place, you turn a corner and there facing you is one of those sisters, standing all akimbo, if akimbo is the word I'm looking for--hand on hip, toe tapping..."
"Yes, akimbo," she said.
"A rolling pin in her hand," I said.
"Rolling pin?"
"Rolling pin is what I said. Are you not familiar?"
"I think not," she said.
"Never mind," I said. "There she is, akimbo, as I mentioned earlier and before you can say, Ziggy Marley, ,Whap! One blunt instrument upside the head, with the force equal to the maximum dose for the average adult."
"Why Ziggy Marley?" she said.
"Must I describe again how I made specific plans for the road trip, and yet my efforts were thwarted by those sisters, known in Celtic mythology as Babd, Macha and Nemain. This was a day filled just as they would have it with one damn thing after another."
All was right with the world, or so it seemed. And that should have been my first clue that the Morrigan were planning to let me have it behind the ear with a sock filled with wet sand. Let me pause the action here to say that the Morrigan are the collective name for the sisters. I know! Don't ask me why. That's just the way it is. I don't make this stuff up, if that's what you're thinking. We must learn to accept it.
I had been led to believe, by some practical jokers, that all my driving options (I was out for a gran tour that day) were filled with rain. I choose the 30% option over the 40%. Small difference I know but when you're in a manic fit, as I'm sure I don't have to tell you, anything you can grab hold of is enough.
The 30% option included Anderson, SC. Follow this closely, you will learn something very telling about the Aunt's modus operandi. I laid a course to Anderson because I have wanted, for quite some time, to visit Aiken. There. Did you catch that? Somehow Aiken was confused with Anderson. You're going to say they both begin with 'A' but that's silly. I've never confused Altoona with Alabama. No, this was the Work of the Aunts alright.
When I realized that Anderson was not the desired destination, it was too far out of my way to change course to Aiken, so I chose the next best option. I rerouted to Athens, GA. And why not? Another city beginning with the same letter of alphabet and home to a highly acclaimed music scene. I thought it would be nice to get me some. So to Athens I rolled.
Oh, Lord, I prayed later that night, deliver me from Athens. I survived the night and moved on to Macon. Macon is where I should have gone in the first place. Beautiful horse country north of Macon and the pecan groves! Majestic is the word that comes to mind. I stopped at one of those yard-art shops with so much metal sculpture you hardly noticed the house. You couldn't have thrown a brick in any direction without clanking some old piece of machinery now living life as a work of art. I was thinking about going inside to inquire about purchasing one of the pieces.
Before I could put that idea into action, a woman appeared on the front porch and explained, with no room for misunderstanding, that I was trespassing on private property.
I think that about sums it up, don't you? The work of the aunts. One damn thing after another.