Most frazzled morning ever, team. Really.

Have you been wondering where I’ve been the past three days? Of course you have. The answer is, I’ve been spending time on the beautiful Hood Canal. 

But even those beautiful views cannot erase the horror that was this morning.

Let me back up. Me and DoctorDaddy were spending time with some out of towners out on Hood Canal, since Monday night. Last minute, we decided to stay an extra night. We would go pick up the Kid, come back out, have s’mores and apple pie, perhaps take a little after-dark row and check out the bioluminescence, and life would be good.

All systems go. Until this morning.

My “plan” was to be up by 7:00 and have everyone out the door by 8:00, so I’d be to work and the Kid could get to school on time. HAHAHAHAHA! I laugh with sardonic glee at my so-called “plans”.

So it’s of course 7:25 before I get up. And then only thanks to DoctorDaddy’s friend who knocked on the door in the absence of seeing my stumbling self running around the cabin by 7:00 like I’d intended.

Next, showered and barely awake, I’m running some stuff up to the car, I’m gone like sixty seconds, and I return to see one drowned rat masquerading as my son. Apparently in the time it took me to take a load of clothes and the cooler to the car, he decided to investigate the very steep and very slippery boat ramp next to the house. Well, unsuprisingly since he’s MY son, he tripped, and slid all the way to the bottom like he was on a goddamned slip ‘n’ slide and landed in on his butt in fifty degree water up to his chest.

He made it back up the slope and to the back door in time to be wrapped in the towel and to shortly thereafter be greeted by my incredulous “WHAT did you DO?!” Shirt, jeans, socks, shoes, and underwear all loaded with what seemed like fifty gallons of seawater. What makes this scenario even funnier (or not) is that had I prepared better, or GoodMan had actually remembered to pack an overnight bag, we would have had a spare set of clothes. Are you kidding me? Prepared? What?

Systems are not going any more.

Thirty minutes later, I have one naked kid crammed into my “I Do All My Own Stunts” T-Shirt complete with a cartoon of a stick figure flying onto his face, wrapped in an oversize (even on me) sweatshirt and stuffed in the car.

Our goodbyes are said, the dog is safely ensconced on a large towel (though not until after taking a swim and being hosed off with great vigor by DoctorDaddy), we are seated and on our way, not without a stern admonition delivered by Cap’n Vic to make sure we get more air added to the right front tire.

I have to pause and thank DoctorDaddy for driving, because I know he didn’t want to but I thought I was at the end of my rope and needed to not be in control of a moving vehicle.

Of course, the end of the rope thing was really only the middle…because there was a long way left to go.

After answering several “What state are we in now?” “What city are we in now?” “Do I have to go to school today?” questions, the Dog must have had enough, because somewhere around Victor he decided to deliver a bellyful of dog treats all over the back seat. And in the *one* spot not quite covered by the towel. Of course. Nothing like the smell of dog puke in the morning. Try it sometime.

So around Purdy, we decide that perhaps Cap’n Vic was right and we should see about getting some air in the tire. I get out, and I’ll be damned, the tire is damn near flat. I’m amazed we even made it as far as we did. In the first piece of luck all morning, I happen to have three quarters (because AIR costs MONEY!) in the door of the car and I can proceed without having to run inside. I pack some air into the tire and waste the rest when I realize the other tires are fine. We jet out of there, because, well, it’s now like 9:30 and I’m supposed to be at work somewhere between now and 10:00.

There ensues a lengthy discussion on whether we might have any clothes for the Kid at the house (unlikely to no chance) or whether we should pick up something at Target (where, I hear, they DO have Kid sized clothing). The decision is made to opt for the place where we knew they would have Kid clothes. So we drive there, find a parking spot, I collect a $50 from DD with which to purchase said Kid clothing, and head into the store, leaving DD to contend with the Kid and one very enthusiastic Dog.

Except that somewhere between stuffing the $50 into my pocket and deciding whether the Kid would want Superman briefs or boxer-briefs, (and would he be a size four or size six?) I managed to misplace the $50 bill that I had carefully tucked into my pocket.

So I’m retracing my steps through Target, trying not to cry because in reality we really can’t afford extra expenditures right now, let alone survive my inability to hang onto a fifty dollar bill, and I’m asking the customer service people if anyone turned in fifty bucks (to which I receive a polite snort and a not-so-polite rolling of eyes). Finally I give up and head out to the car empty handed to explain amidst tears to DD that I lost the money. Not fifteen minutes have gone by and I’ve already gone through fifty bucks.

Fortunately, he just laughs and hugs me and tells me to relax. I think at that point he might have been losing his sanity a little bit, but whatever the reason, he handled it exactly right. He handed me another $50 and sent me back inside, sniffling.

I returned, got the Kid into the new clothes (he loved the Superman boxer-briefs, thankyouverymuch), and sat in the passengers seat (now REALLY not feeling like I should drive). DD got the Dog in the car, plopped into the drivers seat, and turned the key in the ignition. Tchick. Tchick.

Nothing.

Radios on plus headlights plus no engine running equals dead 2NMobile, apparently.

I’ve never push started a car before today, but learned quickly, with DD pushing the car for all he’s worth and me praying I don’t run him over like I did the Dog, and hoping I can remember to pop the clutch AND press the gas, when suddenly it’s time (indicated by the shout somewhere behind the car) and wonder of wonders, I did it right and the car roars to life.

THANK YOU GOD.

One dead battery and $80 outfit for the Kid later, we’re on our way. 10:22 and counting.

Finally we get to my work and DD drops me off, I hug the Kid goodbye, and they zoom off before getting run over by the train. I head to Starbucks, because Lord knows I need a coffee by this time, I get in line, order my drink, and…

Yeah, you guessed it. I forgot to get coffee money from DD. So now I’m looking (and feeling) like the world’s biggest Jackass, I’m rooting around in the friggin’ suitcase I refer to as a purse, locate $4.90 in assorted one dollar bills and change, and make my way outside, where I collapse, smoke a cigarette, and enjoy my hard won coffee.

The day goes okay (it was actually a relief to get to work) until tonight, when I am sipping on a much-anticipated tasty alcoholic beverage. I’m enjoying a certain, shall we say, loosening of the tongue, when DD’s boss comes over and asks me, should he fix the light overhead? Can I see?

“Oh sure,” I say, “No problem. I have the luminescence of my laptop screen to light things up for me. Don’t even worry about it.”

Let me pause here for a moment to explain that DD’s boss wears a pant size of, I’m assuming, 50 waist and 30 long. Seriously. I beleive I’ve referred to him in my blogs before as Oswald Cobblepot, in fact.

So it’s time for break and DD comes strolling over, and I relate the story of Oswald and his offer to fix the light. I then go even farther to explain that I almost thought it would have been worth it to say “Yes” just to enjoy the comical sight of Oswald on a ladder fixing a big fluorescent light. DD contributes that perhaps we would even get to see his pants fall down again. I’m laughing giddily at this when I realize that DD is pointing his finger at his chest, which takes me a moment, but I finally realize that he’s pointing at the very same Oswald, standing RIGHT BEHIND HIM and definitely within auditory range of the drunked-up 2N-trash-talk issuing from yours truly.

Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better, really.

It’s important to note that I feel bad. Not because I made fun of Oswald; rather because he heard me making fun of him.