LIFE HUMOR
The Day the Moon Wobbled Over Planet Earth
It was not a pretty sight.
A wobble down memory lane
One quiet evening a short time ago, sometime in the COVID era, having prerecorded my favorite news programs so that I could fast-forward through pandemics, plagues, riots, wars, fires, building collapses, heat waves, tropical storms, lying politicians, and filthy rich morons wasting precious resources to flap about in outer space, I eventually turned to the science news for some blessed relief.
Big mistake. “NASA warns moon ‘wobble’ could lead to more flooding…” was not what I wanted to fall asleep thinking about.
Apparently, our stable, reliable, waxing and waning moon isn’t any of those things. Instead, in an 18.6-year cycle, there’s a slight change in its orbit, something scientists have known about for a long time. This time, according to scientists, it was going to cause some serious problems here on Earth.
Well, maybe they were right, but I have evidence that it started happening that day right there in northwestern Washington, where I lived at the time.
The night before
I went to bed earlier than usual, having been pummeled half to death in physical therapy that morning and having an 08:00 AM dentist appointment the next day.
WTF was I thinking? Since retiring, I have NEVER scheduled anything before 10:00 AM. Worse, my beloved Subaru’s window mechanism was inop, with the window on the passenger side stuck halfway up, for which I had an 11:00 AM repair appointment at the nearest dealer 60 miles away in Tacoma.
This was an emergency! With the window half-open, I could not secure my car or even run to the grocery store. Sigh. I might as well just get it done.
And worse, any time I’d leave my little village, it was a trek, and any trek would have many stops—Costco, Trader Joe’s, Central Markup, pot shop—and I was already thinking my whole day’s plan was shot full of bullet holes—and I wasn’t even planning to visit Target. I’m so effed.
And even worse, a while back I tried to “Kondo” my office files, making three stacks: recycle, refile, shred. Because of Moon Wobble, the wrong pile got shredded. Now, with my car license and registration in tatters, this added yet another stop on my safari to get them reissued before I got a ticket for driving without them.
(Notice how I used the intransitive to obfuscate the identity of the guilty party?)(Also, notice that one has to drive illegally to the Dept of Licensing if they aren’t carrying papers?)
So, with all this rebounding in my brain, I showered and hit the sack, set my alarm for 6:30 AM, and instantly did NOT fall asleep. The not-sleeping continued until I finally gave up, got up, and shut the alarm off an hour early. Grumble.
In the morning
Make. Coffee. Feed. Dog. Check Medium stats. Pee (again). Fill mug (with coffee, not pee). Brush teeth. Leave... No, wait! Go back!… Floss teeth. Leave for the dentist.
It took about 20 minutes to drive to my dentist’s office, just the right amount of time to down a huge mug of Costa Rican coffee, strong, rich, and always in a hurry to leave my body. I was already tapping my toes by the time I parked outside the dentist’s office.
Thinking I had arrived in the nick of time, I trotted to the entrance. I could see the restroom through the locked outer glass door with a hand-lettered sign visually screaming, “Stay in your car! Text to 306.xxx.xxxx! Someone will come get you!”
“Fine. I can wait. I’ll just stand out here for a minute or two, dancing.”
“O sweet Jesus, please, please, please hurry…”
At last, my delightful, friendly hygienist, whom I hadn’t seen in months, asks, “How are you, Dee? Doing any gardening? Health good? Been traveling?”
She wants to talk NOW? “FINE! Gotta pee. Back in a sec.”
Apologies were offered. I settled comfortably into the dental torchair, ready to spend the next hour planning the rest of my day.
I should have taken into account that Moon Wobble affects one’s bladder capacity, and not in a good way.
Tacoma Subaru
I’d had my sweet Crosstrek for eight years and loved her every minute—except for that one time when she was still brand new. The window on the passenger side rattled, driving me the rest of the way crazy. The rattle ultimately won, forcing me to make the 90-minute drive to the dealer to get it fixed and regain my sanity.
They gave me a free car wash for my trouble.
But this time, as I was leaving for the Pummel Shop (physical therapy), I couldn’t make that same window operate. It wouldn’t move. It made no noise. I summoned my mechanical engineer (former partner) to inspect it. He jiggled it, stared at it for a while, jiggled it again, and said, “Hmmm.”
I had already come to that same conclusion and had already called for an appointment at the dealership, which would start 90 minutes after the end of my dental adventure. Plenty of time to get there and grab another coffee!
The plan was to get that repair chore done, then leisurely tackle everything else on the way back home.
So, I pulled into the Service aisle where the cutest, hottest, smiling-est 30-something man ran over to get the details. I’m wondering where this one has been all those years of visiting the Subaru place.
Joking about Moon Wobble weirding my day, I told him about the stuck window. He reached into my car, pressed the “window lock” button, and suddenly everything worked just fine.
I swear, I have NEVER in eight years of owning this car touched that button.
“As long as you’re here, would you like a free car wash?”
With blazing red cheeks and suddenly needing a fan, I declined and slithered away, thinking optimistically that the rest of the day would be a breeze after this. Except, I should have paused to visit the ladies’ room.
Next stop, Department of Licensing
Port Orchard, the seat of Kitsap County, is a tiny town just off to the side of my route home, where I headed next. I had visited this little burg many times in the past and was confident I could find the county offices and get my stuff done quickly. After all, I’d been there several times before.
But the Moon Wobbled…
I found myself somewhere in the Twilight Zone, lost, sweaty, and frustrated AF at my day being consumed by cosmic stupidity. Caving in to technology, I turned on my GPS and found myself to be on the opposite side of town from the DOL, cursed at the Moon, and made my way to the licensing office.
Fully prepared to be ridiculed or scolded, I dragged myself up to the counter and, “Um, I accidentally shredded my license and registration. Could I please get new ones issued?”
“And do you have a ladies’ room?”
The clerk didn’t bat an eye. Didn’t even look at me. Eyes focused on her screen, she merely requested, “Thirty-five dollars, please. Cash only. The ATM is over there. Your papers will be mailed to you in the next six to eight weeks or so.”
I supposed I’d be driving below the radar for a while until my papers came.
Tick Tock Next Stops
Still hoping to make it back home that same week, I drove past the Goodwill collection line stretching around the block and down the road. Strange. The last time I was there, I just drove up and unloaded the car.
Nope. Not this day. This time, I just drove right on by.
Central Market (known locally as “Central Markup”) was next on my list of STDs (shit to do). After cruising the parking lot for 20 minutes, I abandoned my shopping list, parked the car irresponsibly, and raced in for ice cream, my panacea for days like this.
Perhaps the Moon Wobble news had created a panic-buying spree among the local populace, with every little old lady and their coin purses and checkbooks queued up ahead of me. I started to sweat. So did my container of ice cream.
Fortunately, my car wasn’t towed, and I still had almost enough gas to get home. Almost.
One more stop! Thankfully, the pot shop was conveniently located next to the gas station on the road home. It was a tough decision. Get gas first? Or gummies first, then gas?
What did it all mean?
It meant that I had to chase my pot gummy with ice cream soup once I finally arrived home.
On a normal afternoon, the was no such thing as rush hour traffic. In fact, we used to call it “rush minute.” But when the moon wobbles, time stands still, as does everything else on Planet Earth.
If patience is not one’s virtue, road rage ensues, appointments are missed, free car washes are declined, and charity organizations don’t get a carload of beat-up old clothes.
Back to the present
Soon after the moon wobbled over my Washington world, I moved to Costa Rica, a beautiful country I had been visiting annually for nearly 20 years.
It’s a country where the moon is constantly in wobble mode, nothing ever goes as planned, automobile traffic is mixed with pedestrians, motos, bicycles, cows, horses, and dozens of bossy street dogs. People stop their cars in the middle of the road to have a chat with a friend, and trucks park randomly to unload… it’s utter chaos most of the time.
Here in Costa Rica, Moon Wobble is a way of life, and the moon seems to smile down on us and render us happy to go gray and wrinkled, waiting for that iguana to cross the road.
Here, when things go wrong, it’s normal, and nobody gets upset or angry. There’s always a solution. Just maybe not today.
Here, everyone smiles and laughs at moon-wobbling. It’s a way of life I’ve come to love.
My dance teacher and Sufi master, Adnan Sirhan, used to say, “Go where there is no doubt.” There is no doubt whatsoever that I made the right decision to go where Moon Wobbles are the mainstay of one of the happiest cultures on Earth.
Thanks for reading! And may the Moon Wobble delightfully throughout your life! For more “wobbles,” see below! ❤️
