It was an hour past my alarm by the time I woke up today. @#&*! For some reason my brain develops these flat spots where it suddenly forgets how to do basic things like set the alarm clock. Also remembering my WordPress password, but that’s a different blog post. I rolled out of bed, walked to the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot (never did take the time to learn how to set up the automatic brew cycle), then got into the shower. As soon as I was lathered up, the dogs began barking at the back door. @#&*! Thankfully, Mrs. 20 Prospect got up and let them out. Her sleep ruined, I proceeded to shave, dress, and get ready for work. I walked into the kitchen to find an empty coffee pot, having forgotten to set it up the night before. @#&*!
Decided against checking my email, or eating breakfast so that I would make it to work in time for my meeting with the Boss Lady (Also to allow extra time to go thru the coffee shop Drive Thru) Kissed Mrs. 20 Prospect goodbye, scratched the dogs behind their ears, fed them and left for work, managing to hit the traffic line up for the high school around the block. @#&*! Now I drive the route from home to the coffee shop roughly 1,000 per year. It’s the same route I take to the kids school. For some reason though, my brain failed to register one of the stop signs until I was about 10 feet away from it. I locked up the brakes and skidded thru the intersection. @#&*!
Thankfully, there were no other cars coming. From that point on I drove with the same level of attention as if it were my first time driving. Got to my favorite coffee shop, run by a nice Ethiopian lady who makes the world’s best brew of Ethiopian coffee, only to find that she has hired some perky, 20 something kid to work the morning shift. @#&*! I hate perky 20 something kids at 7:30 in the morning.
A half hour later I was at my desk preparing for my meeting with the boss lady. Curiously, her office door was closed, and the lights were off. It was then that I realized my meeting isn’t until Monday. @#&*!
Clearly the Universe is telling me that the word of the day is @#&*!
Usually this sort of frustration is reserved for the mornings where I have to drop the kids at school, and suffer through the dreaded “Drop Off Line”. For anyone who drives their kids to school, you will understand what this means. We choose to send the children to Our Lady of the Subdural Hematoma instead of the public school for two reasons.
1.) We’re Catholic, and felt that it was only right to subject our children to the same sort of torture we endured as children.
2.) The local public school is essentially a work release program for juvenile delinquents.
Now as I’ve said before, Our Lady of the Subdural Hematoma is not your usual fancy pants, highfalutin private school. While it’s not cheap, the tuition is still within reach of regular folks, working regular jobs. We’ve a lot of parents that are carpenters, bus drivers, and secretaries. We’ve also got our fair share of Cake Eaters from the tonier suburbs to the East. So the morning drop off line is a collection of Luxury SUV’s, and beat up Chrysler Minivans. For once though, my frustration is not directed at the subtleness of the caste system that exists between parents. It’s directed at all of them.
Filing into the drop off line, we approach the drop zone by the schools front door. Along the curb is a 75 ft long, clearly marked, white striped section of pavement that is meant for the children to exit the vehicle, and walk to the front door. However, most of the parents of children at Our Lady of the Subdural Hematoma, are too protective of little Jimmy & Suzy to let them off in such a dangerous spot. No, rather than dropping the kids and getting out of line they sit patiently waiting for the line to move until they reach the very front of the drop zone, in front of the front door. It is at that point that they suddenly realize they need to get the kids dressed, and sort their back packs for them. Parking at the head of the line, the cars doors start opening, and the clowns emerge with seltzer bottles and cream pies, and perform a Chinese fire drill. Once they have completed the tricky choreography, they kiss little Jimmy and Suzy on their cheeks, climb back into their vehicles, and WATCH THEM WALK ALL THE WAY TO THE FRONT DOOR. Apparently, you can never be too sure if the children will be kidnapped by satanic cultists, or eaten by rabid wolves in the 40 feet between the curb and the building.
This performance is repeated by each and every car in the line ahead of me. After muttering @#&*! Under my breath for 5 minutes, I reach the drop zone, and let Lil’ Miss 20 Prospect, and 20 Prospect Jr. out of the car, then pull out of line and drive past the scowling, disapproving faces of the parents ahead of me, who are clearly pissed that I have deviated from the sacred drop off ritual and endangered the lives of little Jimmy and Suzy.
Every damn day I’ve dropped them off for the last 6 years has been the same. If I had to venture a guess about the greatest threat to the future of America, I’d say it’s that we are raising a bunch of sheltered, over protected children that will be unable to deal with the rigors of life upon graduation. This drop off line is as clear an indictment against my generation as anything. C’mon folks, toughen up. The kids can handle getting themselves to the front door. Really! All we need to do is slow down to <5mph, and let them tuck and roll when they hit the pavement.
@#&*! Happy Friday Everyone. Is it MFBT yet?