Thank You For That

As everyone knows, or doesn't know, but should know, not that I judge, the reward for doing a mitzvah is to do another mitzvah. You do a good deed, go do another one. Not to be confused with pay it forward. That's when someone hands you money and instead of spending it on yourself, you spend it on the son who needs a new pair of Air Jordans. Why should he go without? What's that? I've mixed up the concept of pay it forward with the concept of enabling your children? So sorry. Let me circle back to my point: What's the reward for doing half a mitzvah? For that's all I did yesterday. Half a mitzvah. It wasn't a full mitzvah. Or was it? You decide:

Saturday afternoon, I took myself to the movies. This wasn't the original plan. But then, when do original plans ever come to fruition? We make plans and the Big Guy busts a gut laughing. The plan was for hubby and the SJG to go to the picture show. That was the plan, alright. Seats for two, please. On the aisle? Right this way. Pay online and hit print. Then came the phone call from the Big Shot friend who had another kind of ticket to dangle before hubby. Tix to the Dodger Game. Hmm... I wonder which one he picked? So, fine, I went by myself to see "The Intern." I sat there in the dark. I enjoyed the movie. I disappeared into Nancy Meyers Land. I didn't have to shush anyone. My definition of nirvana. And then I left. This is where the half a mitzvah comes in. As I moved toward the parking structure, trying not to faint from the 100 degree October heat, a gal came up to me. There was desperation in her eyes, a look I know all too well.


"Do you know which level is level A?" she asked. "Why, yes," I said, semi-confidently, "I believe I do. It's the ground level. I always park there. Are you lost?" Another feeling I know well. "I'm so turned around. I think I'm on A-1." "Here, follow me." We walked downstairs, and sure enough, we were on Level A. "I want A-1," she said. "There is no A-1," I said. "That would be too logical. Everything is alphabetical. There's A-H. A-J." "Oh, I must be on A-I." Well, I did my best, but in the end, it wasn't good enough. She knew I wasn't going to get her to home plate. There would be no appropriate baseball analogy other than Strike Out, but hey, I got her to freakin' Level A, did I not? That should count for something. As in half a mitzvah.

"I'll take it from here. Thanks so much," she said. "Oh, okay. You're welcome. Good luck." As I drove off, I saw her get into a golf cart with a Parking Structure Guy. God willing, he got her to A-I. Or maybe they ran off together. Meanwhile, I need to do another half a mitzvah to get the full mitzvah reward.  If any of you fine peeps needs my half-assed assistance today, you know where to find me.