I woke up late having dreamed my son’s soccer game was cancelled due to the rain. After a quick shower, I jumped in Hubby’s car because mine was easier to take. Of course it is. It’s packed with kid-friendly essentials such as wipes, extra diapers, lollipops, and a couple of water bottles.
So I get in his car and the gas light goes on. Great. An extra stop and I still want to pick up coffee at Dunkin’. OK. No problem. I pull up to the pump and realize the gas tank is on the other side. Determined not to let it get to me, I back up and go to the pump on the other side and get out of the car again. Of course his gas tank has a switch (somewhere) to open the cover, so I get back in to locate it, flip the switch and we’re off … again.
When I swipe my atm card, it doesn’t take. Sometimes, at this station, our atm does not work. Of course I always forget this fact when I am in a hurry. No problem. I pull out my credit card and fill the tank with ten dollars due to the time factor. (I don’t have any!) I then go over to the drive through for coffee and wait five minutes before backing out and walking in, wondering how difficult it could be to write the orders on the cups, fill them and hand them over. (I’ve worked drive throughs, so I know what I’m talking about.)
I finally get my coffee, get in my car and head up the road, the straightest route to the soccer field. Wrong. Apparently there is a gas main rupture about two blocks from where they stop us. Two police cars are waving cars up the road that will take me to the other side of town. I do what the semi does in front of me. I pull into the street and turn around, much to the chagrin of those behind me. Whatever. I’m late for my kid’s game! Don’t they understand?
After turning around, I head down the street I should have taken in the first place, arrive at the field, and catch the last thirty seconds of my son’s turn on the field. I lie, of course, and tell him I’ve been standing off to the side the whole time because I didn’t want to distract him. (I’m sure all parents are going to Hell for the the lies we tell in order to save our childrens’ feelings.) He buys it. We’re all happy.
This is just a typical Saturday for me. I don’t know how to change my karma and make my life calmer, but I’m working on it. I hope to wake up some Saturday morning during the school year and hang out in a clean house with clean clothes all put away where they belong. Instead, the house is a mess, the laundry is always in the process of being done, and the kids usually have to go somewhere, but they’re happy, as am I.
I guess that’s all that really matters, huh?