Refusing to settle for less, the Bear steps into the fray.

I’m resisting the urge to update my Facebook status.

Shelly is resisting the urge to update her Facebook status. Shelly is happy that she finally got the BCS Championship Bowl on the T.V. She was about to cry. Seriously.

Shelly is getting a little worked up about her trip. Nervous? Nervous? Hells yeah! People I haven’t seen in over ten years. Three different people. Three different GROUPS of people. What the hell am I thinking? That I am Superman. I am intrepid Shelby T., fighter of injustice, teller of things what to do, driver of the night roads. Smartypants Extraordinaire.

Shelly’s converting anxiety into excitement. And really, it’s not hard. I WANT to see these people. I’m thrilled, that at the last minute, and quite unexpectedly, each one has invited me into her home.

Shelly is laughing at the Tostitos commercial. The dude is lost in thought in the chip aisle. He must be high.

Everything I touch rattles. Things that shouldn’t rattle. The T.V. in the hotel room is buzzing unnaturally, like some tube inside is loose. Yes, it’s a gi-normous cathode tube T.V., or whatever. The laptop I’m using makes noise. I’ve already discussed replacing the hard drive. It’ll have to happen. The rental car has lit the low tire-air light, a menacing orange tire with exaggerated tread and flattening sides. The engine sounds suspiciously a lot like the busted engine of my Rover that I left at home.

I don’t really expect everything to work perfectly. So what is this telling me? (I decided long ago that the world creates it’s own poetry, telling us subtly and some times not so subtly what’s what.) That if my expectations are low then that’s what I’ll get? Settling for less means getting less? How then to compete for better, without being a bitch?

Shelly gave in to the urge to change her Facebook status.