On the days that we are to wake up stupid, wouldn’t it be nice if there were some kind of internal warning, like that little beeping noise heavy equipment makes when it’s backing up. I just feel it would be more fair to family, friends, business associates and neighbors if there were some kind of warning. That way we could say, “According to my ‘Stupid Meter,’ today, my brain will go into reverse and partially cease to function. Today, I will not be in control of my life, my faculties nor my jelly roll,” to which they might reply…”Is that why you are wearing a shower cap on your head?
It was trash day. Traveling as much as I do, trash day becomes a big deal at my house. Having missed the last trash day, it was already a big stinky deal. I had just finished my morning shower when I heard that unmistakable back up beeping noise of the garbage truck. It was in my subdivision. Standing there, well, let’s just say all natural like… I had choices. I could miss the garbage truck again–or I could sling on my raincoat, race down a flight of stairs, leap over a pair of dogs and make a mad dash out to the curb–dragging behind me two over loaded trashcans. The latter was my action of choice.
Mission accomplished, I ran back up the driveway not wanting to be seen by the garbage people wearing nothing but my raincoat, and (literally) “Goofy” slippers. It was an August hot morning already but my temperature rose about 50 degrees more as I tried to open my now locked front door. With a car coming, my only option was to pose on my front lawn like a branch of a eucalyptus tree. The Garbage Gods were with me-because the car turned before it got to me. I was still a sight unseen.
Now what? Thank Goodness for good neighbors. I sprinted my way across the yard to the front door of my neighbor to beg for entrance. The door was opened by a fresh faced college kid who was home for the summer visiting his parents-they, naturally were at work.
This kind kid did not even flinch as I quickly explained that I wasn’t a flasher or mentally ill. Without taking a breath, I told him that I was a neighbor in need of a ride to Wal-Mart where my mother worked as a part-time greeter and I could get her key to my house because my husband was out of town and I had locked myself out and I kept forgetting to have that extra key made. “Cool,” he said “Let’s go.”
Through small talk, a few Georgia suburbs, and internal mental cruelty to myself, the kid and I finally made it to Momma. Funny, she did not even flinch either as her first born approached her in full bag lady regalia. With perfect timing she said, “With those shoes, your are actually a little over dressed for a Wal-Mart shopper. We burst into laughter! I got my Key, a much-needed hug and headed back for the house.
It wasn’t until Eric, my new best friend and I returned home that I became disturbed that I might truly be disturbed. My trash, still curbside, was the only trash curbside. My mental chatter asked me, “What day is this?” About the exact same time the kind kid, Eric, asked me “Isn’t today Wednesday?” In our subdivision, trash day is Tuesday. It was Wednesday. I had missed the trash yesterday. I don’t know what I had heard earlier backing up, but I had created this whole ordeal for myself…out of panic. Panic over trash! I reached for my head just to see if a shower cap was up there. Internally, I knew what day it was…and I needed to warn others… *”Beeeep…Beeeep….Beeeep!”*