Is Mercury in Retrograde?

I'm having such a damned funky week. I feel as if I am speaking in English yet the world around me only understands Cantonese. A colleague of mine used to suggest that odd segments of time like this denote the advent of the Mercury Retrograde, a celestial intermission that can bring on havoc, bad karma and swarms of locusts if you're in a particularly bad patch. Now I don't buy into that whole philosophy of new-age-touchy-feely-gobbledygook, but I have to admit there are periods of time when things are curiously off kilter.

Case in point: I park Angus, my steely green GPS enabled steed, in a 24 hour manned garage three blocks from my building. The staff at Stable Car Parking are pleasant and accommodating. I think they appreciate the fact that I park the car myself in a spare space when I return to the garage and not leave it hovering in the middle of the entry ramp as most of their customers do. Over the past few months, we've built up a friendly rapport. Every evening, I call and tell them what time I need the car the next day and every morning when I arrive, there sits Angus, positioned toward the exit of the ramp and ready to take on the road.

Today, I was washed and dressed and ready to go at 6:30 am. When I got to the garage, the morning attendant Mohamed looked distressed to see me coming in. "You're early. We don't have your car ready for you till 7," he said uneasily. He's a nervous man anyway so this new development completely unnerved him. "Yeah, sorry about that. I decided to go early today," I replied casually. Angus was right there anyway, ready to roll, positioned just behind a Lincoln Towncar. "If you can move the Lincoln," I said, "I'll pull right out." Easy, right?

No. Mohamed was sweating and ill at ease. Jumpy. Someone was screwing with his routine (yes, that would be me). "Yes, but, Mr. Rodriguez needs his car," he stammered gesturing at my parking impediment, "he's always here at 6:30." I looked around. It was just me and Mohamed. "He ain't here now," I retorted "what's the problem? It'll take seconds." Mohamed paused, stomped off to the office where the valet keys were kept and brushed past me to get into the Lincoln, muttering under his breath. He moved the car out and slid the Lincoln backwards into another parking spot to clear access for me to pull out. As I did, a very large gentleman was walking up the exit ramp who I bet was Mr. Rodriguez. I must have been for I thought I heard a scream of anguish from my anal retentive and anxious garage valet.

I better pad his holiday tip envelope but good.