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Thursday, September 15, 2011

Sometimes...There's Just Not Enough Coffee!

I awoke this morning to the most horrific sound…my phone’s alarm. It was fortunate for the alarm that it was on my phone, for in that first waking moment nothing would have given me more pleasure than to throw the source of the wake-me-from-a-sound-sleep-ruin-a-good-dream noise maker out the window, onto the concrete drive, and watch it shatter in a million pieces! 

However, since I NEED my phone, I had only the image of destruction I’d created in my mind to draw satisfaction from.  I cross the house, cursing myself for not having gone to bed earlier as I’d told myself to over and over again last night.  I get to my son’s door, which is hanging half off the hinges (don’t even ask), push the door to, and in the sweetest possible way I could muster, I scream, “WAKE YOUR LAZY ASS UP!!”  (Just joking, but I was so grumpy that the thought crossed my mind.)  I realized at that moment that the best thing I could do for both of us, would be to get him up and go lay back down for half an hour…try and find the right side of the bed to get up on.

I awake the second time to Marshall coming in to kiss me goodbye as he heads off for the bus. Realizing that I can put off the day no more, I get dressed and head out the door for the 25 minute drive that would take me to my prison cell of the day.  About half way there, my phone rings.  The number on the caller ID I quickly recognize as my son’s school, but upon answering it, realize I have almost no reception and can make out little more from my son than he needs another shirt.  I must now turn around and go BACK to Vidalia to bring my son a new shirt, and I realize that I don’t have a clue what he was wearing in the first place (I know, I should be nominated for mom of the year).  When I got back in range of the towers, I called the school asking to speak to Marshall, but am transferred instead to the principal, who informs me that it is picture day, and my 5th grade son is wearing a shirt that says, “Grab a butt and pinch”.  WHAT??? Where did that COMPLETELY inappropriate shirt even come from and how come I’ve never seen it?  I mean, surely it would look much better on me!

I deliver the shirt, and head off to work for the second time this morning, already late, only to hit every single red light in town.  It’s then that I realize I had not been successful in finding the right side of the bed to get up on.  At one light I was stopped next to a funky painted Crown Victoria, jacked up on ridiculously large tires, with the radio bumping so loudly my car shook from the bass, and I couldn’t hear my own radio.  I shot the driver a dirty look, to which he was completely oblivious as he slumped to one side, moving to the obnoxiously loud music like some basketball player bobble-head toy.  At another light, I notice the very heavy young woman in the car next to me with her hand down her shirt frantically scratching her right boob, and can’t help but associate it to the likeness of Al Bundy with his hand down his pants.

I finally make it out of town and go to pass a truck while there is an available passing lane.  The old man in the truck speeds up to faster than I wish to go so I crank up the radio and set the cruise control.  No sooner than the passing lane ends, the man lets off the gas and slows to an infuriating 45 mph (in a 55).  I’m now late for work, stuck behind a man going well below the stated speed limit, oncoming traffic spaced out perfectly to prevent me from passing, and at that moment, I experienced shear road rage, cursing loudly for no one to hear but me.
I could sure use another cup of coffee!  Whew…if the morning’s been like this…what adventures will the rest of the day bring?  To this I just say…bring it!

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