Monday, November 19, 2012

At least I woke up laughing....


I woke up at 5am to use the washroom and I saw myself in the mirror and started laughing.  I had forgotten about my mishap yesterday, and it caught me off guard.  Because I thought it was a good idea to buy hair color at the dollar store, on clearance.  I thought, what could go wrong?  Now,  I'm a red head.  My first day as a red head I proved I'm still a blonde somewhere inside.

I was born a blonde but my 40's have changed my hair to dishwater blonde and grey.  I thought, if I bought a  golden brown, instead of golden blonde, I wouldn't have roots from trying to go too light in color.  The box said light golden brown.  The box lied.  My hair is red, chestnut, auburn, orange, or something like that:

So that was good, to wake up laughing, I suppose.  Because I look ridiculous as a red head.  I'll be annoyed at myself every time I see it for the next month or so until it fades out but at least it brought me some laughter this morning.

I told Mike I'd give him a ride to school.  I left my P.J's on, grabbed my 2nd cup of coffee to curb my appetite until I could get home in 1/2 hour, threw on my Crock slippers and took the puppy with me.

I dropped Mike off at school, turned back onto the street and the car died.  I got it started again and pulled back into the parking lot with the car put-putting and turned the car off.  I figured I'll just let it rest, hang out here for Mike's 1 hour class, no big deal.  If it won't make it home at least Mike is with me and can help out.  Then Scout whined.  Oh yeah, I forgot, I had the dog with me.  

And I still had to wait 1 hour until Mike got out of school.  I had a small rope in my car I used as a leash and took her for a walk on the school grounds, in my slippers, with no bag. I was hoping no one would see me.  As my luck would have it though, it was grounds keeper day at the school.  Here I am, walking around with a puppy with nothing to clean up after her, in my PJ's, as about 100 workers are cleaning up the grounds, planting trees, getting ready for the holidays, giving me dirty looks.  There are obviously no dogs allowed on campus by the looks I was getting.  Or, maybe those dirty looks were because I was in my PJ's circling in the lawn, in a sea of nicely dressed college kids.  Maybe they were thinking I had just escaped from a state run facility somewhere, I'm not sure which.

Normally I would have brought several bags on a walk.  I felt so bad.  Then I felt something squishy in my shoe.  Turns out it was Canadian Goose poop on my foot and in the back of my slipper.  I see some of the workers smiling as I'm trying to wash it off in the cold grass, cursing under my breath, college kids staring at this scene too.  I said "Fine Karma, ya bitch, I guess I deserved this one" because I couldn't pick up after my dog.  
So I took Scout to the apartment complex across the street to finish doing her business.  I thought that was a good idea too.  Turns out, there's a no dog policy and about 100 condos full of old people who had been waiting their whole lives for this moment.  Seriously, they must have been waiting by their windows for this day in their dreams.  Because within 5 minutes, literally, 3 people came out, 2 with canes, 1 with a walker, flagging me down, walking towards me with such purpose and vigor I wanted to say, "Well look at you!  Aren't you the little speed walkers!  Good for you!"  But it was to tell me, there is a no dog policy.  The 2 ladies from the first building were nice about it.

The old man from the other building on the way out looked like he wanted revenge against us.  I knew what he was going to say so I kept walking.  As I was leaving and he was following us out, Scout took her number 2 right then and there, of course.  He started coming towards us faster.  So I started to jog out with my dog crouched like she wanted to go again and an old man running towards me.  I was running away saying, "Sorry, I'm so sorry."  

But he didn't want my sorry, he wanted me to take her deposit with me.  I had no bags and he had a look in his eyes like he didn't care, the poop was going with me.  
So I had to keep running....
from an old man....
in my PJ's......
with traces of goose crap still in my slippers 
and on my foot....
on a Monday morning.  

I know I'm suppose to "be not afraid" anymore, but he had a cane damn it, what's a girl to do?  Lucky for me I'm still faster than a 90 year old.  I told Scout she and I should have both went to the bathroom before we left.
I looked up "Angry old man with cane" on Google images 
for this story.  The options were endless, so many pictures of 
angry old men with canes in the world to choose from, who knew....

We went back to the car and waited another 1/2 hour for Mike.  I was looking over my shoulder for the old patrol like a wanted fugitive, ducking down when the groundskeepers from the college got near my car too.

My coffee was cold by this time and I was hungry.  I smelled something bad and thought my dog still had gas because she wasn't done going when we got chased out of the apartment complex.  I was afraid she was sniffing the floor of the car because she was going to go in the car.  


And then she started licking my foot...  
Oh yeah, I had almost forgotten about the goose crap. 
I realized, that's not the puppy that smells, 
it's my damn foot, and I can't wash it off! 
Happy Monday!

Once Mike got there, I tried the car and it started right up, of course, drove fine.  I told Lorens what happened and he said I should have just kept driving, probably just had some water or bad gas in the line and it just needed to backfire a few times and it would have been fine (it's 22 years old). So then I told Lorens I had a better idea.  He takes the 22 year old car to work from now on and I'll keep the better car here with me and the kids.

I am considering leaving Scout at home once in awhile.  I'm also seriously considering getting dressed before leaving the house now that it's November in Chicago.  Because next time, when I think to myself, what could possibly go wrong, I need to say EVERYTHING.  This is you Bev.  Pack for a disaster.  Remember your girl scout training, maybe bring a survival bag with me for trips over a mile, and some soap.


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