Last we spoke, I was feeling low. Lower than low really. I will, no doubt, write more about what has happened since then. I can tell you now, though, that one thing that has happened is that time has passed, and I’ve gotten some help. (Okay, that’s two things.) Several variables have contributed to the fact that I am feeling better, and lately, I am even capable of gathering tidbits of life that really solidify that notion. The following is one of two examples of situations that would have EASILY had me in a puddle of tears a few weeks/months ago. Instead, I found myself laughing. That, my friends, is good news to me.
Once upon a time, on a freezing cold weekday morning before coffee, my boyfriend’s car doesn’t start. The battery is dead. I’ll have to take him to work– no biggie. We have two cars. His job is nearby. Piece of cake.
Sure, if that cake was made of dirt.
You see, before coffee, just putting on pants is the equivalent of calculus for my morning fog brain. My first task each day is pushing the button on the coffee maker (ever since that time I set the automatic start and a coffee river flowed through my kitchen, I just can’t let it brew without supervision). But today, somehow, whilst in a decaffeinated coma, I manage to get “dressed” (well enough to not freeze to death during the five minute drive) and deliver Rob to work on time.
I begin to wake up on the drive home, probably because it is reallllly cold, and it’s tough to be sleepy when your violent shivering could be mistaken for dancing to house music. In my newly found consciousness, I decide I’ll jump start the dead battery when I get home, just to make sure we aren’t dealing with something other than a door left open or an interior light left on. Rob will be happy to know his car isn’t really broken.
It is only about half way into this little endeavor that I realize the following:
1) I don’t actually know how to jump start a car.
2) I am wearing safety goggles and gloves (because I read that I should in my owner’s manual while troubleshooting item 1 above). I am not, however, wearing a bra.
3) I still have not had coffee.
In attempts to clear up all the issues on this list, I go inside and press “brew now” on the coffee maker. Coffee cures all.
Another crisis averted. I. am. on. fire.
I head back outside, where my car has been running long enough to give the dud some juice. After a few attempts to turn the engine over, Rob’s car starts. I just can’t be stopped today, y’all.
Time to get on with this awesome day. I leave Rob’s car running to warm up and charge the battery. I call my dad to make sure I know how to disconnect the jumper cables without dying, and he tells me I should drive Rob’s car so that the battery holds the charge. No worries. I have the perfect errand to get it up to highway speed for a few minutes, even: I have a wellness appointment scheduled for my dog. Sometime soon after I manage to put a bra on, I remember that–brace yourself for an over-share– I have to bring a fecal sample with me to the vet. Still wearing safety goggles, with plastic baggie in hand, I head through the house and out the back door to search (in the frozen snow) for Hank’s morning… business. It’s not all that tough to find, he has favorite spots. I am still feeling extra successful, despite the fact that my most recent reward for a job well done is a bag of poo.
Alas, as I head back inside, the reality of the coffee I never had sets in: the back door is locked. The kitchen door is locked. The front door is…. well, you get it. Thank goodness I have on safety goggles. Bah. I can’t possibly feel surprised. In retrospect, more than one early morning success is too good to be true. I shoulda quit while I was ahead. Rob got to work: mission accomplished. Go back to bed or something, woman. Well it’s too late now.
Naturally, I briefly panic. It is cold. Rob has no car and I have two. This, my friends, is why morning and I are not homies. I have to get house keys and I know it, so I begrudgingly head back to my car to retrieve my cell phone. I’m just glad I left it there, really, instead of inside. The truth is, even without coffee, and even without keys, I’ve pretty much always got a phone, ya know? Go ahead, judge me. As I am formulating the “Hi, I’m an idiot” conversation I’m about to have in my mind, I round the corner to the car port, where I am greeted by my decaffeinated brain all over again: Rob’s car is running and THE. KEYS. ARE. IN. IT. Duh.
Suddenly, I feel like a girl who’s had her coffee.
….until, that is, I go inside and try to pour coffee. As it turns out, you have to put water in the coffee maker.