Braking news

I'm working my way out of a nasty episode of insomnia. After two nights of restlessness, last night I fell asleep reasonably early (with help from a wee bit of Diphenhydramine Hydrochloride - I foresee us becoming closer friends), and only woke up once during the subsequent 9 hours. I was groggy and dragging this morning, but I felt better than I did Thursday and Friday. As it turns out, however, it was to be a kind of morning that made me wish I could crawl right back under the covers for another day or two.

After wrestling my unwilling, whining, and crabby child out the door and into the car, I realized that I left my bag inside. No big deal. Ran back up the driveway, keyed back in, and we're off again. We had an appointment at 9am to get an oil change and inspection. Halfway there, I realize I left the coffeemaker on, and never poured my precious, precious juice of life into my to-go mug. Let's do the math: running late +lingering exhaustion + cranky toddler - coffee = I'm buying a one way ticket to Somewhere when I get home.

The shop is on a main drag (Chestnut St. for those who know the area), and as I pulled in, I was happy to be reminded that it's right next to McDonald's, so I would be able to get coffee after all. Maybe I won't buy that ticket just yet.
Sam, who insisted on wearing his Superman pajamas over his clothes again, happily checked out the display tires while I talked to the service manager. He told me it would take about an hour. Since I planned to take Sam for a walk, the manager offered to call when it was done...as I'm about to give him my cell number, I realized that my cell phone is at home, charging. Next to the coffeemaker. Rats! I also haven't worn a wristwatch in years.

We walk over to McDonald's. I think we learned to tell time from the angle of the sun in Earth Science. But maybe I need paper and string and other stuff to do that. Sigh.

I'm very proud that Sam does not know what McDonald's is called - he's had its fries before, but I'm careful to never speak its name, or mention Happy Meal, or Ronald and so on, because I don't want it idolized. It's inevitable he'll figure it out one day, but for now, I still win. Of course Sam noticed the play center thing and wanted to go in. I've blogged of my hatred of this play center before, and trust me I looked it over with much contempt - however, on this crisp morning, without my caffeine fix, or a timepiece of any kind, or even a modicum of patience, I said, "Sure - as soon as I get my coffee, we'll go in and you can play!" I hear Greece is lovely.

Sam is not tall enough to negotiate most of this play center, and he got bored pretty fast. He asked me if he could touch the tall, resin Ronald, grinning and guarding the play center.

"Who's he, mom? Can I touch him?"

"He's a creepy weird clown. You can touch him, he's not real."

"I don't want to touch him. Can you touch him?"

"Sure... see? He's plastic. He sure is creepy, isn't he?"

"Yea. I don't like him!"

I win again.
Now Sam wanted to climb up these little platforms to the next level. Without giving an inordinately complicated explanation of what this involved, I'll just tell you that I wasn't thinking very clearly yet, and put my coffee down momentarily on the corner of this little blue platform (yep, Mom didn't read the posted RULES. No food or drink in the play center. Yep, I'm that mom, the inconsiderate bitch that can't figure out how to negotiate the play gym and didn't even take off her shoes and told her child that a clown was creepy) so I could help Sam by giving him a boost. His foot swung out and knocked over the coffee. The nearly full coffee. Most of it poured out, steaming, down the corner and onto the rubberized floor. No other children were on the thing, but one child was at a nearby table, eating, with his mom. She looked disapprovingly at us. I looked disapprovingly at her scrunchie. We got our jackets back on, and I went up to the counter and admitted, apologetically, that we'd had a spill. I didn't replace the coffee. It was time for the walk, and I thought that maybe Australia sounded pretty good.

We walked for what I figured to be about 20 minutes, then we turned around. We were about a block from the shop, and the caffeine withdrawal headache moved from the background to front and center. That's also when I heard a dog bark across the road, down a side street. I looked up and realized that a big golden retriever was barking and trotting his way toward us - he seemed friendly, it wasn't a charging bark, but the problem was that he was running right into the main road - the main BUSY road.
His owner called for him to stop, and I yelled too, as I realized that a car was heading right in his path. I put my hand out in a futile attempt to signal the driver, but it was too late, and the car hit the dog pretty squarely. I was horrified and picked up Sam, but thankfully, it wasn't gruesome. The dog jumped up and ran back to his owner, although clearly frightened, and likely with internal injuries. The car stopped, and luckily, a police cruiser had been coming the opposite way, and pulled right into the side street to talk to the owner. I hope she was ticketed for not having that poor dog leashed, and if they can justify more citations, she deserves them as well. What a moron.

My car didn't pass inspection and I needed a part replaced, and I have to bring it back next week - that is, if I'm not living in Montreal and going by the name Dominique by then. My brakes are nearing the end of their life too. That's my braking news. And you thought I was a bad speller, didn't you?