Happy People Laughing

I read today that iguanas rafted 5,000 miles from the Americas to Fiji on vegetable rafts.  Blue is the rarest color in iguanas.  They are found only in The Grand Cayman Islands.  I found one in a front yard on a walk one day.  Rare sighting.  

I'm feeling a little giddy, but I don't know why.  I could complain a lot, but. . . sometimes a small thing will happen that lightens the load.  

Two things.  Silly things.  

I took my bed cover--not a duvet, not a quilt--to the dry cleaner yesterday.  Dry cleaners?  Dry cleaner's?  I don't take anything to the dry whatever anymore, not since I left my job at the factory.  I rarely did then.  But for years now, none of my t-shirts or shorts have needed it.  So. . . 

I walked in with the big green thing--comforter, I guess--and lay it on the counter.  

"Hello," said the pretty Asian lady.  "Tell me your first name again," she smiled.  I was caught off guard by this.  First name?  She did something in the computer.  "Remind me of your last name. . . ."

Ah.  I see.  Smart.  Seemed intimate, but she was simply fishing.  

"You're not in our system, it seems."

I gave her the requested phone number.  She did some key strokes, then looked up at me and smiled once again.  

"Didn't you bring in a red one last time?" she asked.  

I was stunned.  I remembered her and the conversation we had then.  They had just bought the dry cleaning place (got around that one) from the family who had owned it for a long time.  We kibitzed about any damage to the comforter.  

"Hey. . . wait a minute," I said.  

"Oh. . . it's o.k.  We own the WP Cleaners, too.  We've done this before."

I said something clever and left.  Of course I remembered the conversation.  She is pretty and I don't have a lot of dry cleaning conversations to remember, but that she remembered what color comforter I brought!?!?  Holy smokes!!!  

"Yea," I explained.  "I have two, one burgundy and this one.  I put the red one on for fall and winter then put the green one on for spring and summer."  I grinned foolishly.  

"Ah. . . that makes sense.  It will be ready on Thursday.  Is that O.K.?"

"Perfect.  Thursday is the first day of spring."

I had helium in my shoes walking out.  Yea, man. . . that was super weird and cool.  She had taken years off my biological age.  

Teeny tiny thing writ large.  

Later when I was in the grocery store, I heard R.E.M.'s "Shiny Happy People" playing through the store and I felt like dancing.  It is a wonderful song, I think, with a "Love Shack" vibe lent by singer Kate Pearson of the B-52s.  Now serious people hate the song's pop melody and "childish" lyrics preferring R.E.M.'s more "complicated" offerings.  But I think that is silly.  Michael Stipe was a talented song writer, but he was quite a glum person whose songs inspired the Grunge Era and bands across the country.  Listen to enough Grunge and you'll start to do heroin, I think, to ease your psychological pain.  

But I don't care.  I like the B-52s and the Monkees version of Carol King's "Pleasant Valley Sunday."  I mean. . . it's nearly spring and I wouldn't mind being happy for a minute.  Stupid Beach Boys happy.  

Gleeful.  

So that's it.  Two small things.  Everything else is shit right now. . . but hey! . . . how in the hell could she remember the color of a comforter from six months ago?

So, I say. . . get up and dance.  Silly dancing.  Happy hippie dancing.  Peace and love dancing.  Fuck Trump dancing!!!!!

Yea. . . that's it.  Fuck Trump!!!!!

Join me at the Blue Iguana for a margarita.  I'll put money in the juke box.  We can dance the day and night away.