I have discovered a talent for injuring others this weekend. The Curse Of Leslie, my kids affectionately dubbed it. Here’s what happened.
Friday: 7:40am
Okay, so I started off the day with a bang by yelling at my son’s teacher. Now, I don’t make a habit of chewing out teachers – I’m a teacher’s kid. I ALWAYS side with the teacher, like parents did in the ’60’s. But this was bad. I’m not going to go into it here because I make Linda Blair’s performance look underwhelming whenever I think about it. Suffice it to say, the teacher was way out of line and bullying Jack because, although he spelled the word “hospital” correctly, she didn’t like the way he wrote “p.”
So, I went up before school started and told his teacher I didn’t like her yelling at my son in front of the whole class over handwriting. She denied it (I have a host of cub scout spies to prove it) and – get this – ROLLED HER EYES AT ME. It is an understatement to say I blew up. I left the school that morning, wearing her severed head as a jaunty hat. Alright, I’m speaking figuratively here.
When I got home that night, Jack informed me that I made his teacher cry. She told the whole class that she was emotionally upset and had to go home. The kids didn’t talk to Jack all day because of his “Mean Mom.”
Saturday – 7:30am
I’m at the warehouse where all the girl scout cookies for the troops in my city are delivered. A handful of us sort 3,775 cases of cookies and help load them into various leaders’ vehicles. At 1pm, Central Time, I ran over a nice, little old lady with a cart of 47 cases of Caramel Delights. I was on a ramp and thought I had control of the cart as I stuffed cases into a pickup truck. Something shifted and the cart released and barrelled into a petite grandmother of 75. I saw her go down, screamed, “NO!” I managed to stop the runaway cart by hurling my body in front of it but it was too late. She had fallen to the ground. Fortunately, an EMT was there to pick up her cookies and examined my victim. Turns out she was alright, but it freaked me out. I mean, in Scouting, you always think you’ll get injured starting a fire, on the ropes course or falling out of a canoe. NO ONE ever thinks they’ll get run over by a cart of Girl Scout Cookies.
I stopped at the store on my way home and picked up six bottles of wine, a couple of bags of chips and went home to watch the Olympics. After a shower (where I couldn’t lift my arms above my waist from the pain) my friend, Michele came over and we drank 4 bottles of wine, ate the bags of chips and devoured 2 whole boxes of Thin Mints.
I was home, and therefore, couldn’t inflict my evil on society. Or so I thought.
Sunday -2am
Bernie, Michele and the kids were leaving my house. Bernie (it should be said, the only sober adult) slipped on the ice on my front steps and chipped his elbow.
On Monday, the curse seemed lifted and I haven’t damaged anyone since Sunday morning. What really happened in those strange 48 hours? We may never know. Let’s just hope it never happens again.
The Assassin