I think it probably all started with the car accident. Except that the morning was a bit off, too, in that I put up a wonky post addressing the question as to why women would want to expose their sensitive flesh in the dead of winter (as they do) which was a big hit in blogdania, let me tell you. (If you want all sorts of hits on your blog, be sure to include the word “secret” in your title. I’m going to do it every day from now on, mark my words.)
It was short day at the elementary school, which meant I picked up my son late, as per usual on short days. (I swear those short days are the school district’s way of gaslighting moms.) We went from school to the grocery store, one that has been recently remodeled. Now I know; car accidents are a sure thing when you spend an hour wandering around your recently remodeled neighborhood grocery store in which the apples are the only thing you could locate without assistance after already having been late to pick up your kid and writing a wonky post.
It was one of those things that can easily happen when backing up at the grocery store—the other car was right behind me and backing out at the same time (and, dare I add, operated by an oldster with an even older oldster in the passenger seat who no doubt told the driver all was clear when it most definitely was not) but I was all unaware b/c I am always much more concerned with the cars that are whizzing by and the little kids whose mother’s recklessly allow them free rein in a parking lot. So, anyway, we banged right into the back of each other.
We exchanged info, I went home and unloaded my groceries, arranged my roses (aren’t they gorgeous?) gave the Big Guy a bath (lately he always smells like mold, I kid you not) got him dressed, drove him to his appointment to see the psychiatrist, a 45 minute drive, one in which I took a wrong turn and got a bit lost, then, once arrived, answered difficult questions as to why it had been so long since I had brought the Big Guy in to see her, defused a gigantic tantrum thrown by 270 pound Big Guy (the biggest reason we don’t often go to see the psychiatrist), drove the 45 minutes home, put dinner in the oven, called the insurance company to chat about the accident, played Guitar Hero World Tour where-in I got a score of 90,000 on level three of Hotel California after not playing GH in several years (but couldn’t get past the intro on level four to save my life), thereby eradicating all hopes of ever knowing if the pain in my neck this morning is due to GH or the car accident, then went off to a book signing (I was invited—no charge!—after selling all the books the book store owner purchased for MY signing, I am so “in”) for one Jamie Ford, author of Hotel On The Corner Of Bitter And Sweet which I assumed included dinner since it was at a restaurant but only included dessert which was a real bummer since I had eaten only dessert all day long in anticipation of lovely Italian food at said restaurant. Came home and finally watched 24.
Normally I just sit at my computer and read blog posts all day.
Tomorrow: the conclusion (I hope) to Snow Murder and Mayhem.
It was one of those things that can easily happen when backing up at the grocery store—the other car was right behind me and backing out at the same time (and, dare I add, operated by an oldster with an even older oldster in the passenger seat who no doubt told the driver all was clear when it most definitely was not) but I was all unaware b/c I am always much more concerned with the cars that are whizzing by and the little kids whose mother’s recklessly allow them free rein in a parking lot. So, anyway, we banged right into the back of each other.
We exchanged info, I went home and unloaded my groceries, arranged my roses (aren’t they gorgeous?) gave the Big Guy a bath (lately he always smells like mold, I kid you not) got him dressed, drove him to his appointment to see the psychiatrist, a 45 minute drive, one in which I took a wrong turn and got a bit lost, then, once arrived, answered difficult questions as to why it had been so long since I had brought the Big Guy in to see her, defused a gigantic tantrum thrown by 270 pound Big Guy (the biggest reason we don’t often go to see the psychiatrist), drove the 45 minutes home, put dinner in the oven, called the insurance company to chat about the accident, played Guitar Hero World Tour where-in I got a score of 90,000 on level three of Hotel California after not playing GH in several years (but couldn’t get past the intro on level four to save my life), thereby eradicating all hopes of ever knowing if the pain in my neck this morning is due to GH or the car accident, then went off to a book signing (I was invited—no charge!—after selling all the books the book store owner purchased for MY signing, I am so “in”) for one Jamie Ford, author of Hotel On The Corner Of Bitter And Sweet which I assumed included dinner since it was at a restaurant but only included dessert which was a real bummer since I had eaten only dessert all day long in anticipation of lovely Italian food at said restaurant. Came home and finally watched 24. Normally I just sit at my computer and read blog posts all day.
Tomorrow: the conclusion (I hope) to Snow Murder and Mayhem.
(Sorry about all the roses, esp. if your name is Reed. I get a bit obsessive. When the doctor asks whom it is the Big Guy takes after, I just murmur something under my breath and look away . . . )
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