Here in Orlando, 40 degrees is considered cold. The past few nights, it’s been in the 20’s. This pretty much shuts down Florida – we don’t have the clothing, the insulation, the blankets, or even the food to sustain us. It’s just cold and horrible and we’re all going to die. I know you northern folks reading this are rolling your eyes and mocking us. Go ahead. We’re still freezing.
Two nights ago, I was wrapped up in my spastic knitting efforts. When I finally looked up and looked at the clock, it was 2:45. I put my sad efforts at a wash cloth down and headed to the kitchen to put away the dinner dishes and start the dishwasher. As soon as I picked up the lid to the crock pot (and realized it was not completely dried) the lights went out. Totally out. I was surrounded by broken glass and in complete darkness. I was telling Scout to stay out of the kitchen.
I waited a bit for the lights to come back on – they usually do in a few minutes. No such luck. Finally, after about 30 minutes, I turned on all the burners of the gas stove for light and tried to clean up the mess. You might be surprised to learn that gas stove burners do not give off much light. I did my best. Yet, every time I took a step (I was barefoot) I managed to step on a new piece of glass.
Around 4 am, I noticed that the temperature in the house had dropped about 15 degrees. After I was done putting the band aids on my feet, I added blankets to the kids. I went back to the kitchen and found MORE glass and started working on that.
Before I knew it, it was 5 am and Mike was standing there staring at me in the dark saying “What the hell . . .?” We chatted, he tucked me in, he went to work and I started to go to sleep. Sure enough, once I finally fell asleep – the power kicked on – the tv, all the lights – gah!
OK – not that exciting, but it’s the truth.
Danny finally made his appointment for his driver’s license test – Monday at 1:20. I’m confident that he’s a good driver, but I cannot wrap my brain around just giving him keys and letting him go – across the street, to the local grocery, anywhere. Ian and Tim are both eligible for their permits, but neither seems to be in a rush for it. And they are my favorites right now.
How does this all tie in together, you ask? I’m a total spaz at 43, I was a total spaz at 18. What is going to happen? I’m freaking out (quietly) about Danny having a license.
Send valium. (And, yes, didn’t I pick a great time to consider quitting smoking?) Send a steam roller.