I should have known, I guess, but it’s only in hindsight that you see the warning signs. It’s like the first bird perching behind you on the jungle gym. How could you know that it’s only the first of a horde of angry fowl out for human blood? Still, I should have known the day was starting to spiral downward when I picked Cheesy up from her hair appointment and she looked completely miserable. She’d thought she wanted curls, but now – with her head covered with sweet little Shirley Temple spirals – she looked completely miserable. As soon as we walked in the door at home she pulled on her new toboggan cap. Three hours getting her hair washed, set and dried, and all for naught.
I sat down to edit the sermon I’m delivering this Sunday. My first sermon, and I’m nervous, and so I plan to memorize the sermon as close to word for word as possible. Last night I read the sermon aloud and discovered that it was 30 minutes long. That’s too long. I found a few paragraphs I could eliminate and removed them this afternoon. Cut. Save. Blue Screen of Death. No big deal: it happens. I rebooted the computer and tried to open my document again only to find my sermon now encoded; nothing but hash marks.
I called yet again to check on the glasses I ordered for Cheesy and Striker. Cheesy is nearsighted, Striker is farsighted, and we ordered their glasses from the local glasses-r-us (or something like that) over a month ago. Delivery in two to three weeks. The man on the phone cheerfully reported that the glasses have not yet arrived. “It can take two to three weeks, you know,” he said, as if I was being unfairly impatient. I explained to him how the calendar works, but it didn’t help.
Our new insurance cards came in the mail today. Thank goodness, I thought, because I really need to get Striker to the doctor for a sports physical. Soccer training started this week, and I tried to take her for a physical at Walgreens last week. Using up Flex Spending money before the end of the year, you know. Turns out the Take Care Clinic doctors have scruples about giving medical clearance for soccer to asthmatic, visually impaired, concusees whom they’ve never met before. Harrumph. So we’ve been waiting for the cards since our insurance plan changed on January 1. There were six insurance i.d. cards in the envelope. There are seven people in our family. Guess whose card is missing. That’s right; Striker’s.
Cheesy asked me if she could watch “Dr. Who” on Netflix, through the new Wii. I entered the parental control code and the Netflix site started loading and then – nothing. Blank screen. The t.v. is fine, but the Wii will no longer work.
In an attempt to relieve stress I started watching “Animal Crackers”, only to discover that I’ve been misquoting Groucho Marx on my blog home page for over a year.
Ten birds for my wounded pride.
Please don’t point out how inconsequential all of these events are, in the grand scheme of things. If you do, I will be tempted to kick you right in your grand scheme of things.
This is me, pretty much.