If you follow my twitter stream, you might have found out that camp was interrupted yesterday afternoon by a nearby fire. Not wanting all the kids or counselors to breathe in the smoke, we moved everything indoors and had the parents come pick the kids up early (well, they left earlier, traffic made it so they arrived at almost the normal time). As the afternoon progressed, the fire was more and more in control and by late last night the Los Angeles fire department declared the fire 90% contained.
And last night, while relaxing at home, I hopped on twitter (okay fine, I was already on it because it’s practically an extension of my consciousness. Whatever) and joked with my boss about the hectic day. I asked her if she thought camp would be cancelled today because of the smoke and she assured me that things had calmed, the skies had cleared considerably and things should be good to go for Thursday.
So I got up at 6, I got ready, including, because today was slated to be a “special” day at camp, blow drying and straightening my hair, and left the house. I normally leave by 6:30 because my 54 mile commute is in the same direction as 30 billion other drivers and I’d rather get to work 20 minutes early than sleep 10 more minutes and get there late.
But today, I left at 6:45. And of course, almost immediately, got stuck at an accident. The first accident in the morning on this freeway in 3 weeks. I ended up getting off the freeway and taking a surface street route to get around some of the looky-loo traffic. I knew I was running late and I considered calling the office at work to let them know, but thought better of it because I’m known to be kind of an alarmist and most likely wasn’t actually going to be late as much as not early.
So I drove on. And on and on. The closer I got the more I worried that camp would be closed, but still didn’t call, figuring that parents would be wondering the same questions and the phone lines would be tied up. I was relieved when the entrance gate was open because that meant that people were there (since it’s otherwise locked).
But curiously, as I drove through the gate, I saw a co-worker drive out of it. And I got a deep sinking feeling in my gut.
As I pulled up, one of my higher ups signaled for me to roll down the window and when I did, she told me that I might want to consider updating my phone number…because they’d been trying to call me all morning. To tell me not to drive 54 miles that morning. Because camp was closed (due to air quality, no damage to the campus).
I got out of the car because I had to pee, and several higher up staff members were all on campus and they all half-heartedly laughed at my outfit (again, special day) and the fact that I was there. I was somewhere between despair and hilarity and found myself alternately laughing and
wanting to yelling profanity.
At one point, I walked up to a friend, stomping and made some gritted teeth comment that I couldn’t believe that I’d forgotten to update my new phone number and kicked my foot in the air in disgust. When I did that, my shoe went flying, and of course, landed on the roof. ON THE ROOF.
I then went in and updated my phone number (while someone retrieved the shoe I was planning on leaving for all posterity) and then walked out to my car only to discover that I didn’t have any keys.
And then a horrible thought crossed my mind. If I had locked my keys in my car as I was pretty sure I had, there was nothing I could do. I no longer have evidence of a AAA membership because of the jackass who stole my wallet in December, meaning I’d have to pay to get my damned keys out.
As that scenario passed in my head, I tried to calm down and remember what I might have done after I kicked my shoe on the roof and scarfed down half a donut (why no, I’m not a stress eater. Why?). And then I looked again and discovered that in one of my fits I had set them down on a desk. Oops.
And then I drove the 54 miles home, arriving 3.5 hours after I’d left that morning.
I walked in the door and found my kitten covered from head to toe in a foreign and now dried substance. I initially thought it was vomit (praise the heavens it wasn’t) and then discovered the place where the shower had dripped and he’d created a kitty litter mud pit. I cleaned him, the wall, the floor, the kitchen table and the kitchen pantry door off (apparently, while covered in kitty litter mud, it’s imperative to touch every surface in the house) and the sheets are in the dryer now.
And then I went shopping. Because, damnit, I deserved it.
Thursday can thuck it.
(p.s. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that today marks 5 years since the day Slappy and I officially began dating. I feels like just yesterday, and also, like I’ve known him a lifetime. It’s been a remarkable and wonderful 5 years.)
(p.p.s. Today is also our cat’s 4th birthday. I’m not crazy enough to bake her a cake or actually celebrate, but I’d just like to mention that I’m thrilled that she didn’t vomit on the kitten. Though he’d certainly have deserved it.)