Archive for March 31, 2012

Who Has the Right of Way Here?

My son is out of town working and has asked me to take care of his animals and plants while he’s gone. I *thought* it was going to be for a week. So, every day after work for the past week, I’ve been coming home and taking care of my animals, then going to his house and taking care of his chickens, plants, and a cockatiel that HATES my ass and lunges at me every single freakin’ chance he gets. (At least I *think* the misognyist bastard is a he. Maybe not. It’s not like I’m going to grab it and give it a pelvic exam.) Come to think of it, being attacked repeatedly by a cockatiel is not that much different than a day at school except that the bite marks are smaller.

Anyway, I’ve been getting back home somewhere between 9:00 and 9:30 p.m., at which time I do the usual household things like cooking, washing dishes, cleaning house, doing laundry, taking a shower, ironing clothes, etc. If you are thinking things like “who the hell is she kidding, there ain’t NO WAY she’s cleaning the house after cooking dinner that late at night”, you would be RIGHT! I was looking forward to son coming home because I am in TERROR, absolute TERROR, that my mother or mother in law might get a wild hair about visiting one day and walk in unannounced on what can only be described as an absolute disaster. Unfortunately son called today and said that he’s going to be out of town until at least MAY. Oh, mercy.

Earlier during the day on Friday I turned down an invitation to join an after school faculty meeting held at a drinking emporium by some coworkers because I had too much to do after work. I was seriously in need of a drink, too, and I don’t drink! How am I gonna get my new career as an alcoholic started if son is going to be out of town until May and the FCAT is in April? *sigh* There’s always the pantry and the cooking wine.

Back to Friday night. There I was, perfectly sober, having finished the livestock feeding, watering, fetching and carrying, when I needed to go to son’s house to feed his critters @ 9 p.m. I went into the house and notified SwampMan “Hey, if I’m not back in an hour, send a search party.” Five minutes later I was back inside the house informing SwampMan that he was going to have to drive me over because I hadn’t gotten gas on the way home, and there was no way I was going to make it to son’s house on the amount of fuel that I had in my tank which at that point consisted of fuel fumes and positive thinking.

On the way over, SwampMan asked me what I was planning to do about supper. “Cook, I guess!” was my unenthusiastic reply. “Well, considering that it’s so late, how about we stop and get something before we head home?” That struck me as an absolutely marvelous idea. “So, I hope you brought your purse, because I left my wallet at home on my computer desk!” continued SwampMan. Well, no, my purse was at home in my vehicle which had no gas. “Well, that bites. I don’t even have any sweet tea in the fridge!” I groused. Whose fault? MY fault, but still.

After finishing up at SwampSon’s, I was thirsty! SwampMan scrabbled around for change, and we had enough to go through McDonald’s and get a couple cold drinks on the way home. SwampMan was eager to get through the line and get home so that I could cook a couple steaks, we’d drink our sweet tea, and call it the end of the week. The person in front of us in the line was just sitting there ignoring the big ol’ space in front of them. SwampMan edged up until there was about 1/2 an inch of space between bumpers. “I think I can get closer!” SwampMan informed me.

“If you do, it would be a good idea for you to be able to produce your driver’s license and insurance card for the nice policeman!”

“Uh, good point.”

We finally got to the window where we paid for our four large sweet teas with change. Fifty cents of it was in pennies. There were a lot of dimes and nickels, too. Who says that small change never comes in handy, hunh?

As we were pulling away from the pick up window, somebody came speeding down the line on the other side and nearly ran into us. SwampMan stopped to let them go, then turned to me and said “It’s really not clear. Who has the right of way here?”

“Right off hand, I’d say the person that has the driver’s license and insurance card probably has the right of way!”

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