I’m seriously thinking about changing my blog name.
My new title will incorporate a portion of my motto. I’m thinking something like “Adventures of a Horrible Warning.”
1. Cell phone rings at 6:56AM. I hear it, but don’t run for it, thinking if someone really needed me, they’d call the house phone. Even though I didn’t run for it, I’m not pretty much officially awake, which really sucks.
2. Joe informs me that he forgot his gym clothes at the shop, so we need to leave a few minutes early to go pick it up.
3. Joe takes off his shoes to put his boots on (why did he even have his shoes on??), and the boys finish getting their gear on and we head to the shop.
4. Where we determine that the gym clothes aren’t at the shop, and that he’s now pretty sure he left them at school.
5. We do manage to get to school on time, and I spend a few minutes speaking to one of the teachers. I’m heading out the door when Will informs me that he has left his snow pants at home. He doesn’t like to put them in his bag, but he has to remember to actually grab them.
6. I walk into the hall to see Joe standing in his socks.
You saw this one coming didn’t you?
7. He’s waiting to ask the teacher if it’s OK to put his gym shoes on, since he FORGOT HIS SHOES AT HOME. Thank goodness he’d left his gym clothes at school.
The thing of it is? I can’t bring myself to be upset at them, because, damn it, they are just like me. I can totally see myself doing any one of those things.
OK. The snowpants need to be at school before 9:50 (the time of first recess), so I actually haul myself back out of the house and on the way to school at about 9:30. Drop off the SHOES and the snowpants and head to the shop.
7. I’m all proud of myself for being here early, but at 9:54, I remember that I was going to bring my Bernina (and my walking foot) to the shop, because I have promised to help a customer sew a binding on her very first quilt. She doesn’t have a walking foot, so I told her I’d help.
8. I race home (I have 6 minutes before the shop is supposed to be open, right?) grab the sewing machine, rip open the drawer where I leave my walking foot when it’s not in use and….it’s not there.
9. Many bad words were used.
10. At this point, I have NO IDEA where it would be. I ALWAYS put it in that drawer, so it’s current location is a mystery.
11. I remember that my mother might know where HER walking foot is currently located, so I place a frantic phone call, ask for it’s location (which she KNOWS!) and head to her house.
12. I make it to the shop, with her walking foot, my sewing machine, only a few minutes after 10. And then I sit down to right this ridiculous blog post.
I’m a little scared for how the rest of the day might turn out. Send help (and chocolate) if you don’t hear from me …