Right before I left the house with the kids this morning, I told my MIL, “It’s going to snow, because I decided to wear my favorite flats instead of my boots.”
By the time I backed out of the garage, there were fat flakes sailing through the air and a nice fluffy layer on the ground. It must have started the moment I slipped on my shoes.
So I turned on the windshield wipers and said, “I’m going to win the lottery, because all that money would be a terrible inconvenience.”
I’ll let you know how that goes.
The kids understood my need for radio silence during the snowy drive to school, and helped out by singing the first two lines—and only the first two, over and over—of their current favorite songs, at the top of their lungs. When I protested, Jane explained that she was just showing me which songs she was planning to earn with her good homework behavior* this week.
I didn’t tell her that hearing the first line of the homemade KidzBop version of “Wrecking Ball” wasn’t doing anything for my level of parental follow-through.** Maybe I should have . . .
Sunny gave me an extra hug when I dropped her off—I suspect that she wanted to see me skate around the car again like a moose on ice, but the reward was worth it.
Had a close call on the way to work with a minivan driver, who thought I should have gone through the yellowred light at a slick intersection, despite the two cars that had already stopped in front of me.
Honking while sitting at a red light because the driver in front of you won’t try to defy the laws of physics, not to mention the traffic laws, at your psychic command doesn’t just display your self-righteous impatience—it also makes you a jerk.
Actually, honking at any red light makes you a jerk. Turning on red is allowed in most of the U.S., but it isn’t required, and we aren’t allowed to decide when the driver in front of us can safely turn. If we believe that we are allowed—nay, required—to make these judgment calls, we should keep in mind that our line of sight is impeded by distance, other vehicles, and by having our heads lodged where the sun can’t get to our corneas. It’s physically and karmically safer to wait for the green light.
One of the tiny, drive-through coffee houses that punctuate my morning commute had a new sign up this morning: New Soup and Pumpkin Flavors!
I thought that a tomato-pumpkin parmesan latte didn’t sound so bad—sort of like bisque with a caffeinated kick to it. But I expect the pumpkin chicken noodle mocha wouldn’t go down so easily—up, maybe.
When I arrived at the library at quarter to eight, I had a breakfast bar, cracked open the first diet Pepsi of the day, and decided to reward myself for hopping on the exercise bike this morning by having a grilled chicken salad at my favorite lunch place.
At the writing of this paragraph some hours later, I have decided that “reward” and “salad” do not belong in the same sentence. “Burger and bacon cheese fries,” on the other hand, might.***
I can always hire a personal trainer and chef—and a chauffeur and homework tutor—once the lottery thing pays out, right?
* My library subscribes to Freegal™, which allows our cardholders—including those of us with staff cards—to download three free songs a week. Since Jane has a card from a different city, I told her that she could earn my songs throughout the week, if she did her homework without complaint and to the teachers’ standards—or mine, if her teachers don’t make their directions clear to me. If Freegal™ doesn’t have a song she wants, Jane can save up three free songs for one that I’ll buy for her. I get song veto rights, because I’m not stupid. We made this pact after her report card arrived Friday—it told us in no uncertain terms that we have a bright kid with a bad homework attitude, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. We’ve tried everything else to get her to understand why homework is important and thought we’d might as well move on the bribery.
** Nor is the realization that I’ve been humming that one line to myself all #%$&ing morning.
***It says a lot about my nutritional attitude that I already had image of cheese fries in my media file. But I’m not inclined to listen today.