Today has been slightly crazed, fraught with many errands, appointments and scurrying from one side of town to the other and back again. Mondays. No matter who you are, where you work, what you expect, Mondays are just...Monday.
I had to drop Oz off at the groomer's, especially now the heat and humidity are becoming a daily event and the poor wee thing has too much hair. Then it was a trip to the vet's to refill prescriptions and possibly get Max's demon claws cut at the same time. No such luck on the claws, the place was mobbed. Monday, don'tcha know.
After the vet's I got gas for the trip north Thursday morning, went to the grocery store, the post office, then to the bank. It's about 12:00 when those tasks are finished, Max is grumbling for his lunch and I'm sweating in the mugginess of a semi-cloudy day with temps running toward 80 degrees already. Buggers.
Home for lunch, then I planted the peony--with difficulty since I'm on solid bedrock; the lavender didn't need such a deep hole. I had to reconnect the hose now the danger of frost is over, then since I'd hauled the ungainly and heavy POS up the slope to water the peony, I decided to wash out and refill the birdbath.
That work done, I get cleaned up and think I should have time to sit for a while with a nice cuppa and my book. While the tea is steeping, I remember Ozzy's meds, get them out of my purse...and discover the tech gave me the wrong pills. Quick glance at the clock. 1:45. Okay, I think I can get across town to the vet's, and with any luck at all, dash across town in the other direction and still make it to the groomer's by 2:30 to pick up Ozzy.
Are you laughing yet, dear readers, at my blithe intentions? My idiotic naivete?
The pill mix-up is taken care of fairly quickly. Lots of apologies, etc., which I am gracious about, mainly because I just want them to hurry up so I can get going. Finally, back in the car, correct prescription in my purse, I give Max some water and a cookie before driving away with all windows down to help him stay cool.
You know those tiny little decisions, usually made on the spur of the moment? The ones you always regret when it's too late to change your mind? Uh huh, yeah, those.
It's now 2:20...I'll be late, but not too late, and I've got options. I can head through the center of town then meander side streets to the groomer's...or take the secondary highway which skirts the high school but drops me within blocks of the groomer's, bypassing the congestion of downtown altogether.
I choose the high school route.
Of course I do. Because there is some kind of major event going on there with traffic backed up for miles--literally--and kids, parents, cars, buses everywhere. It is a jam of epic proportions. There are more people along this road than live in the entire frigging town!
At last, I make it to the groomer's just a hair after 3:00. Max is hyperventilating in the back seat, I'm sweating and my left eyelid has begun to twitch. I run in, all ready with my explanations...to find the groomer has fallen behind due to a very matted and unkempt dog that has thrown off her entire schedule. Can I come back in an hour?
I gave Max another drink of water, and another cookie, while I pondered my next move. I totally refused to even think about my stress levels, or the heat, or that my left eyelid is doing the rumba. I don't want to drive all the way home, I can't go shopping because I have Max in the car and it's too hot.
Driving to no purpose or destination I pass a DQ. Huh. I haven't had a Peanut Buster parfait in years. I pull in, order, then drive to the river where I parked in a perfect spot under a large shade tree. It was quiet and peaceful with a slightly cool breeze coming off the water. My twitching eyelid was gone by the time I was scraping the last bits of hot fudge from the bottom of the container.
I found a few precious moments of tranquility in the midst of mayhem. It made all the difference.
Because it's Monday...but I had ice cream...