After a lovely weekend with Bear on a mini-vacay in an AMAZING hotel on a last-minute deal, I return to life this Monday morning.
And that always sucks, doesn’t it?
I woke up almost in PAIN missing my son. There are some weeks I don’t have him that feel like a much-needed breather. Other times, it feels like a punishment. I decided my best choice was the get down to business. Start writing. Start praying. Start checking emails.
I did my thang for a while until I heard the dogs start to go ape-shit…only it wasn’t near the front door, as it usually is. It near the door to the back yard. I peered into the back room and there they both were, huffing at a wall.
We live on a creek and occasionally a mouse will run up and under the crawl space of our house and make little noises that aggravate the hell out of the dogs. I refocused on my computer only to be interrupted again, this time by barking and whining.
“Guys. It’s under the house. I can’t fix it. It’ll go away. A snake will get it. I promise.”
I talk to my dogs. Like they’re people.
But the dogs were relentless. So I wandered into the back room to show them nothing was there and that’s when something was there.
And in fact, that is the exact text I sent to Bear upon realizing a mouse was IN our house, not under it.
“Where?” he texted back.
IN OUR HOUSE.
I spent the next 30 minutes with flash lights, glue traps, and 2 VERY angry dogs trying to hunt the little sucker down. Do you have any idea how infuriating it is to be 8 times the size of a mouse and completely incapable of catching it?! IT LAUGHED AT ME. I HEARD IT.
I gave up. I set glue traps around every corner of the room because no I’m not going to simple shoo it outside with a broom. I’m going to kill it and leave it as a warning to its friends. Go ahead. Call PETA.
I drove to the grocery store because we have nothing to eat except Mouse and I can’t even catch it to cook it. Walking down the organic rice aisle (have you seen Winn Dixie’s new organic aisle?! It’s really nice!), Josh Groban comes on.
Fly me up to where you are.
Beyond the distant star.
I wish upon tonight
to see you smile.
Weeping. Silently weeping near the rice. Why? I don’t know. Because my mini-vacation is over and I miss my son and I can’t catch a mouse and we’re out of groceries.
I’m now realizing that I’m several layers of crazy deep into this day, so when they’re almost out of my favorite creamer and the last one is at the back of the top shelf, I think nothing of climbing through and stepping on milk and soy products to get it. Do I care that those other cartons are now dented all to hell? I don’t. I want my creamer. IT’S ALL I HAVE.
I get to the check out and the young man handling my groceries is new. Brand new. I think I might be his first customer. The bagger is usually the guy who checks me out and he’s coaching New Kid.
“Oh, you accidentally rang me up for 4 rice boxes. I only had 3,” I kindly showed him. I hate that feeling, when people are watching you try and subsequently fail, knowing all the while you have to start over again with a new bag of unmarked produce as soon as this customer leaves.
“Oh…” New Kid said, flustered.
“Just select that item in black,” Bagger Dude said, “and then hit void. See? You got it.”
He was so encouraging. So supportive. He never once let New Kid feel like he was screwing everything up (which he was). And once the line got long enough, Bagger Dude simple said, “Here, I’ll take care of this one for you and help you bag it so you can get through and start the next one, ok man. No worries.”
Again, I almost cried. Because here I am going down the rabbit hole of crazy (I don’t have PMS, btw, it’s just me) and here’s this Bagger Dude being SO helpful and SO kind to New Kid. I walked out of Winn Dixie thinking, “People need to be this kind. They need to be this patient and this helpful to each other. Why aren’t we constantly finding ways to make each other feel like, “Hey! You’re not the only one! I was New Kid once, too!”
I spent the rest of the day humming Josh Groban and trying to find ways to be NICER to people because I may be damn near the last shade of crazy, but I can still see those sparkle-moments that make me think we could all be doing better.
BTW – Can someone tell me I’m not the only one who’s wept near the organic rice in Winn Dixie when Josh Groban comes on? ANYONE?!