The power was out in my apartment tonight because I wasn’t smart enough to switch it to my name when I moved in (last time, they did it for me. I didn’t ask this time, just assumed). So I did the rational thing: Went to the bar across the street and watched 7 innings of the World Series while using their wireless internet to sign up for power, and watch the Islanders game online while charging my laptop battery.
As I left the bar (grabbing a pack of matches), I realized that I know I HAVE a candle in my apartment… but I have no idea where it is.
I stopped at the gas station and went to their junk aisle and immediately located an 8-inch tall candle with a picture of a Mexican saint on it.
The guy at the counter thought I was nuts, because within seven seconds of walking in, I’m at the checkout with just that. He asked if I came in specifically for that. I explained the situation and asked if many white people came in to buy this product.
He didn’t know they even sold it. And added that there’s probably a guy in the Home Depot parking lot with that picture tattooed on his arm who could explain its significance to me. Then he rang me up.
I was expecting to pay like seven bucks for such a large candle. Although, I can’t tell what it smells like, because the label is in Spanish. I hope I’m not accidentally cursing myself, but it looks Catholic, so hopefully I’m blessing my apartment. Maybe my tacos will taste better next time I make them. Hopefully St. Judas Mateo is the patron saint of prompt utility service.
Anyhow, I can’t tell if the warm Louisiana day has made my trash smell bad, or if its my feet, or if its this candle making my place smell like a sweaty Mexican. But I can see the toilet when I pee, and that’s all that matters right now.
May the Peace of St. Judas Mateo enlighten your day.