Another day. Dragging my tired body out of bed isn't the tough part, it's knowing what comes next that keeps me from wanting to face the day.
It's the part where I get into a freezing cold car before my eyes have adjusted to the light and fight my way through early morning traffic with a trio of turbulent teeny-boppers in the back seat.
"Hey, buddy, are you going to let me out of my driveway, or what?"...and that was just a dog-walker.
I try to drive with two fingers because the steering wheel is too cold to grip. When I attempted to pull my sleeves down over my hands, I noticed that I had worn short sleeves under my jacket. What was I thinking? Then I realized that I never changed out of my pajamas.
"You've got the right of way, buddy! Just go, for Pete's sake!"
The sun is so low in the sky, that even with my visors down, it glares relentlessly into my fully dilated eyeballs. If the windshield is even the slightest bit damp, the light will reflect off the glass like it was the second coming of Christ. If I ever heard anything that sounded remotely like angels singing, I would head back home and start packing.
Of course, when I'm temporarily blinded, that's when someone decides it's a good time to pull out in front of me.
"Do you have a death-wish or something, buddy!?"
Concentrating on my driving leaves me little to no brain capacity to interpret the constant litany of complaints (far from angelic heraldry) coming from the back seat:
"Stop humming! Mom, he won't stop!"
"I think I forgot my homework."
"Today is gym day. I feel a headache coming on."
As I struggle to get these kids to school in one piece, I begin to notice things about the cars in front of me. I have been behind these same cars countless time, but for some reason, my cognitive skills must've kicked in a little early this morning and I actually began to read the messages on the back of them.
I must add here that my cognitive skills have never been top-rate, and they were just getting warmed up this morning. In light of those facts, the messages were not comprehended as well as they might have been by your average cognitively blessed person.
I saw a lady driving a Lexus with a poodle in the front seat. Her license plate read: AEIOU-Y. I figured that this must be a private tutor. Teachers don't get paid enough to drive a Lexus and poodles are too high maintenance for someone who works all day. This tutor's specialty is apparently making sure that her students know that Y is sometimes a vowel. Very important work.
Miss Tutor turned and in front of her I read a bumper sticker that said, "Nothing runs like a Deere." I snickered. Right. That's why he's driving a Jeep.
As I approached the elementary school, the Jeep pulled into the parking lot and I read the license plate that was now in front of me. IMATCHER. Could this possibly be someone who compares the emergency rooms of hospitals for the rest of us?...Or maybe she's a teacher who's an incredibly bad speller? Since we were pulling into a school and not a hospital, I had to assume that it was a teacher. Since my child is a fairly good speller, I also assumed that this wasn't my child's teacher.
Back on the main road, I nearly rear-ended a guy driving an expensive car. I should've been able to read what kind of car it was since his bumper was inches from my face, but all I could read was his license plate: THBOXINK. My muddled mind determined that he was trying to tell us that the box, his car perhaps, has ink. Which means it comes equipped with a pen, I think. No, no, that can't be it. Who would brag about a thing like that? I may have to think outside the box for this one...
Oh.
There goes the blond lady in the yellow Volkswagen bug. Either I'm a little late or she's a little early because I normally pass her right in front of the middle school. I'd better stop reading the early morning traffic and start driving.
"Sorry, sister! You're not getting in front of me; I'm late!"
You can reach Laura at lsnyder@lauraonlife.com Or visit her website www.lauraonlife.com for more columns and info about her books.
