Goodbye Summer, You Piece of Crap

September 22, 2004 | Category: In My Life

It doesn't seem fair to blame summer for the problems we've been facing the last 3 months.

But? I'm still happy to see it GO GO GO.

Complaining isn't my bag, but these last days of the season have been a BITCH in need of a smack. To get you in the mood for this recent litany of woe, let's choose some music. There was a mean, tacky song about Ted Kennedy when I was growing up. It went:

Ohhhh
Your Father's Dead
and Your Mother's Dead
and Your Brother's Dead
and Your Brother's Dead
And Your car doesn't float.
(And you'll never be presidenttttttttt...)

In the mood? OK here goes...

1) My brother hurt himself catching a football. My brother, who has played hockey for 25 years, got hurt catching a football. This morning, he had 4+ hours of open-throat surgery (yeah, ew) so they could dig pieces of a broken disk out of his spinal column and put in some titanium. How scary and awful is that?

2) Friday, the phone rings. "Honey?" CD says. "Where are you?" I ask. "Walking home," CD said, huffing. "Guh?" I respond, intelligently. "The van wouldn't start when I came out of Blockbuster," he informs me. Turns out? Broken battery electrical thingy or something. 2 days of cafutzing, plus $$$ out of savings.

3) Friday, some more. My mom calls to read me letter that came for me at her house. Seems there's been a freakout with the DMV's computer, and they're suspending my license. For an a fine that was levied 18 YEARS AGO. (Also? PAID) Mom asks me "Well, didn't you take care of this?" "Yes mom. I went through this 10 years ago, had to get receipts and letters of clearance when I got my Mass License. Don't you remember?" "Well," she says, "Then you should still have the receipts, right?" Uh, no. No indeedy. When I moved cross-country to start a new corporate life, with only a backpack of belongings - can you believe? I DIDN'T SAVE THE RECEIPTS. Oh, it's going to be suspended in 3 weeks. In the middle of my business trip. For an executive summit. Gah.

4) Sunday, watching Bear at the playground. He'd just completed his first week with CD as a temporary stay-at-home dad and it had been a trying week for all of us. So we were having a "fun break" but then Bear bumped his head and started crying. Bear couldn't stop crying, and I started rocking him and cuddling him and trying to comfort him. I had been sitting in a little blue house, playing along with him because there were no kids his age around. In between snotty bouts of tears, Bear asked me if I was going to miss the blue house when we left the playground. He insisted I take a picture of it. Even after I did, he was not consoled. I think maybe that he was missing his school, and his friends, and that the new arrangement with Daddy was wearing on him. Realized that I am an awful, bad, evil mommy.

5) Monday. Am informed by actual operational boss that I will no longer be running my program. Am being somewhat demoted so I can support another program. Apeshit ensues.

6) Monday night. Dinner meeting with vendor. They had giveaway goodie bags. This was supposed to be GOOD. Except? The shirts won't fit me. They are classy button down shirts, with NO ROOM FOR BOOBS. Women, in my part of the industry, still uncommon. Not UNHEARD OF. But hey. Also? I got HUGGED. No one else got hugged. Just me. Maybe they liked my boobs.

7) Tuesday, really ready to vomit with stress. Limit future career options to save my current posting in a series of political machinations that would make Machiavelli proud. Some people in my company are very glad, and cheer. Others are giving me the stinkeye and plotting.

8) But wait, when I woke up - my phones weren't working. Took 2 hours to fix that. Lovely phone company. Lovely. Not like I was trying to rearrange breakfast meetings, save my job, or find out how my brother - who was having OPEN THROAT SURGERY (thankyouverymuch) - was doing.

To recap:
Brother. Ow.
Son. Oh, honey...
Car. $$$.
Current Job. Yikes.
Career. Yeah, tired of being the only one with boobs. Well, wait - some of the guys... ok ok. Let me rephrase. The only one in a bra.
Driver's License. tick, tick tick...

And? And? I'm back up a pant size since vacation.

(Dare me to say it? Dare me? You DO?!)

And my car doesn't float.

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