Here I sit with my early morning cup of coffee awaiting the child, who, after the 3rd call to arms was finally making an appearance, bemoaning her upcoming descent into hell (or what some call school) as she dragged herself slowly to the bathroom — deciding apparently that the Board of Ed’s set schedule was obviously meant for other students and not her.
It’s that time on a Monday morning when I contemplate my week’s required work, both professional and personal, and try to mentally set a schedule for each task. As I arrange my ideas and mental calendar, I watch the ne’er-do-well (aka Holly the evil cat) knock a decorative glass bottle off the antique dresser she’s not supposed to be on and in so doing, my eye catches sight of a business card — a business card that upon further inspection, announces a vet appointment for the hellhounds…an appointment first thing this morning that I had, of course, completely forgotten about until this very moment (okay, I still don’t remember, but obviously it’s meant to happen — why else would I have the card?).
I instantly regret putting off bathing the two hellhounds after their romp in the puddles during our walk late last night and I hang my head in preemptive shame for the looks I know I will receive from the vet tech over their raggedy condition. “Oh sure, do it tomorrow you thought, it can wait, you thought. It’s midnight after all, you thought. It’s not like we have to go anywhere first thing in the morning.” Great.
As the “I don’t want to go to school and I’m going to drag this out as long as possible” slamming and banging from the other room gets louder and louder, another memory creeps into my consciousness. The English project that should’ve been completed this weekend. “Hey! Did you get that character analysis done?” The clattering stops abruptly. Total silence. Of course.
With a heavy sigh, I finally take my first sip of the much-needed sweet and creamy caffeine-laden liquid pick-me-up in my cup…at long last. Too late, I realize my mistake. I forgot to put in the sugar. Blech.
I tip my imaginary hat to Monday. So it’s going to be like that, is it? Well played, Monday. Well played indeed.