4:15 a.m. I wake with achy ovaries and a slight malaise, stretching my sore heel before easing out of bed. I think it's Friday but I'm wrong. I won't realize my mistake until I get to school, three hours later.
Hobbes the Hobo Dog remains on his clumpy bed, seemingly lifeless, as neurons misfire in his brain. When I finally rouse him, it's obvious he's had another seizure, his movements molasses slow, his head cockeyed to the ground. There will be much petting and gentle whispering into his curly, blond ears before I leave.
Turns out, it's going to be one of those days.
I drive to school under veiled darkness, a sense of foreboding at the edges. Well, at least the kids will get a ride today, thanks to the icy sheen and snow-covered streets.
8:45 a.m., one technological mishap heaped upon another, yet I've managed to shake away the blues. Across town, things are unfolding in spectacularly disastrous fashion.
Following a lunch of leftovers and a clementine teetering on the vague memory of sweeter days, I pick up the phone to check in with Mark, ignorant of the tales that await me. Mostly, I want to know how Hobbes is doing.
The story I get instead leaves me breathless and joyful. Giddy, almost.
Mark is in his 10th year of an affair. He thinks I don't know it, that I can't see the way he lustily looks at her, each time the garage door does its slow reveal. Apparently, this is standard form for a Subaru owner.
Ah, but today, he found her weak underbelly, and I could taste the disappointment over the phone.
They didn't even make it ten feet down our drive before the ice abruptly ended the love affair.
"THIRTY MINUTES! It took 30 minutes to dig it out of the bushes!"
Between Mark and the kids, each one took a turn at the wheel, while the others dug and pushed furiously. At one point, with Allison behind the wheel, it was five minutes before they discovered the car had been in "park."
Eventually, the embarrassed Outback eased her way back to solid ground and the crew quickly assembled inside, already late for school.
The Raglins are NEVER late. And these kids teem with "Raglin" genes.
Mark made it around the corner before he realized all was not well with the universe. He pulled over and discovered the truth behind that realization--a flat tire.
And so, the Holt kids rode their bikes to school yesterday, bracing sub-zero temperatures and tardy slips. Along the way, perhaps as they wended their clunky way past Woods Park, Eric realized his pants had a 4-inch gash in them. And Allison realized what a wonderful thing a hat would be.
In Geoscience, a cold half hour later, a kid nearly threw up on Allison, his sweet sick scent clutching at her pant legs.
She came home at the end of the day only to discover she'd gone through it with her zipper down.
We celebrated with dinner out at Noodles, where, it turned out, other people were having themselves some kind of day, too. When Mark's food arrived ten minutes after ours, one waiter slipped us some free bread and a Rice Krispie bar. Soon after, the cook stopped by and comped us two meals.
It was a spectacular day, another one for the books, and we left Noodles happy and filled up, both with food and good stories.
Oooh...so funny. Last year our car was stuck in our driveway during the bad snow storm and neighbors magnetically showed up to help and push. With all their might they could barely move the car. Then Mike K. leans in through the window, looks at the dash and informs us the car was in park....Not funny at the time...funnier now that we're not the only ones!!
ReplyDeleteI was talking to my hubby about this and he reminded me our car wasn't in park but the parking brake was on. Go figure on why they couldn't move us!
ReplyDeleteJackie,
ReplyDeleteYou make me laugh! And it is SO good to know that, not only am I in good company, but that good company also happens to live up the block!