don't waste the pretty

I feel like I just gave a guy my number and I'm waiting to see if he'll call.

Except, instead of a guy, it's my insurance company. And, I am starting to wonder if they're just not that into me.

It's been three days that I have not had a car.
Three days without knowing what's going to happen next.
Three days of sitting, feeling trapped in my apartment, feeling lost and alone and stressed out about what's going to happen. Wondering whether my car is fixable or not, whether I will be able to afford it if the car is totaled.

I keep remembering that there are many, many people in the world who don't have a car. There are many, many people in the world who don't even have food to eat every day. In the grand scheme of things, this is but a tiny bump in the nicely paved road that I, as an American, am fortunate enough to be able to call my life.

But, as Sanestperson reminded me, one can only have so much healthy perspective, and eventually one just has to be annoyed and admit that the inconvenience sucks.

So, now I am finding myself acting like I just met a boy that I like and I am hoping he calls me.

I'm glancing at the phone incessantly, wondering if they'll call. I find other tasks to take me away from the phone for a moment, and rush back, checking to see if they've called. And when there are no missed calls, I am sad.

I'm analyzing our last conversation. They said they'd call. They said they'd call today with more information. Did I come off too needy? I don't want them to think I am needy and high-maintenence. I don't want them to think that I am so into them that they won't be into me.

But then, I think, why shouldn't they be into me? I am a good customer! I am worthy of their attention and the level of care they represent in their commercials! It is their job to be into me! What's up with the lack of communication!?!?!

I mean, it's not like I expected them to gasp in horror when I told them about the accident, and rush over to my house with a box of tissue, a bottle of wine, a gorgeous massuer, candles, and a bag of money.

Although that would have been nice.

Sigh.

My dad told me that it was okay to be upset that it happened, but I need to be able to give them hell to get everything taken care of (he reckons that the insurance companies are the spawn of the devil always looking to screw the little guy).

I'll call them again after lunch. I can't start giving hell on an empty stomach. When my blood sugar is too low I have trouble being indignant without tears.