It's been four years since I started putting my jumbled thoughts down
Nonetheless, you'd think after four years I'd have run out of things about which to write. Many days, I do say to myself, "I've got nothing..."
And then I have a day like today...
I'd just settled in for a long winter's nap, when a sound awakened me. It was dulcet tones of my cell phone. Since the caller I.D. said it was my child, I felt it would be a nice gesture if I answered.
"Hey, Vlad! What's up?"
"Hi, Mom. Say, can you come outside? I got my car stuck in the snow and need help."
*looks at clock... notices the time... 1:00 a.m.*
"Sure, no problem... I'll be right out."
*looks around for something to put on over warm, comfy jammies*
An hour later, Vlad's car is in the driveway and I'm wide awake, looking forward to my alarm going off at 5:30 so I can get up, shower, shovel some more and get to work by 7:00 a.m.
Which is exactly what happens... I get up at 5:30, shower, make the requisite Eolist Petite blend coffee, check the "closings" list on the news and don't see the Center for Wayward Wee Ones listed, shovel out a small patch in the back yard so the puny dog has somewhere to take care of business, and head into work.
Now my car gets stuck twice on the way to work, necessitating getting out of the car and shoveling the freakin' street so that I can get to work. (No sense returning the favor by calling Vlad to ask for help since I'm about two miles from home and in these conditions he'd probably get stuck as well and then where would we be?)
Once I make it to work I discover there there is no place to park on the street because the snow plow has left huge mounds of snow next to where one might be able to park one's motor vehicle. So, it's time to get out the shovel, (yet again,) and dig through the mound of plowed snow, (which is always iced up and ten times heavier than regular snow.)
|Where's a good horse when you need one?|
So, I park the car, get out and walk halfway down the block to work and notice there are no lights on at my long-awaited destination. *sick feeling develops rapidly in pit of stomach*
Sure enough, when I pull out my handy cell phone there's a text and a voice mail, saying that the Center for Wayward Wee Ones is closed. WTF? Where did those come from?
Figures... pretty par for the course, when it comes to me.
I think I'll just go back to bed now. I've had enough excitement for one day.