See Mel Work and Play and Try to Drive a Car

The smallest project can turn into a sprawling time consumer.  At least it can if you are me. 

At 8 p.m. last night, after my daughter went to bed, I headed for Home Depot to pick up the foam insulation and assorted decorating items.  But first, I took a long look at the van’s interior and tried to imagine shoving  a few 4′ x 8′ boards into it.  I decided the seats needed to come out.

I had to look that up in the manual.  Then I unscrewed one, tilted it back and pulled and fussed at it until it finally came loose.  By the time I finished the second seat, my husband had come out to see why I was still in the driveway.

So, off I went.  At Home Depot, I got an orange cart, then headed over to the building supplies where I quickly realized I needed a heavy-duty metal cart with space for carrying things bigger than myself.  I trudged back outside to find the appropriate cart.

I lost several months of my life inside Home Depot as I wandered and priced items and searched for other items and carted four 2″x4’x8′ pieces of foam insulation.  The two-by-fours only fell off the cart three times.

A surly cashier rang up my items.  I paid.  Then the real fun began.

I reached my super-huge van, the one big enough inside for a dance party (I’m only missing a disco ball–believe me, this van is just that groovy).  I opened the back and pulled the first gigantic piece of foam off the cart and . . . not into the van.

It didn’t fit through the back doors.

No need to panic, right?  I opened the side doors and acted as if I knew what I was doing.  I heard laughter coming from an SUV parked nearby, but I ignored it and muscled the foam insulation diagonally through the door.  For a few moments, I didn’t think it would slide all the way in, but through the magic of geometry, physics and panic, I somehow fit it in.

I was sure I’d never fit the other three pieces in, but one after the other, they slid into place.  I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get them out, but removing them at the church proved a simple task.

But as I carried the wood and foam and paint cans down the long church hallway at 10:30 p.m., I wished that I were one of those tiny, petite women who flutter their eyelashes so that big, strong men do this type of job for them.  For whatever reason, I am loathe to ask for help, even when it involves Home Depot and power tools.

*  *  * 

My husband rocks.  Today, he stayed at home with the kids while I gallivanted.  I went shopping–my closet has become bare as I’ve cleaned out clothes that no longer fit.  I especially need something to wear to church on Sundays, but I was unable to find a dress department, let alone a dress!  Do women no longer wear dresses?  Marshall’s used to have a rack of dresses, but not anymore.  The local department store has two small racks of random dresses, none suitable.

So, after shopping (I settled on capri pants and some shirts), I headed to a movie.  “The Devil Wears Prada” received a good review in the local newspaper and so I expected to love it.  I did like it–I think Anne Hathaway is beautiful to watch and Meryl Streep was fantastic in her role. 

But I was annoyed by the plot.  We are supposed to believe that the heroine in the story is wrong to excell at her job and that putting her job first (she’s not married and has no children) shows that she’s lost her soul somehow.

I didn’t buy it for a minute.  In fact, I wanted to slap her whiny boyfriend hard across his stubbly cheek.

So, after the movie, I left the parking lot by the alternative route behind the building.  As I turned the corner, I noted (with mounting panic) that my car wasn’t accelerating when I pressed the pedal.  I lifted my foot and the car idled along . . . but when I pressed again, it slowed.  

Oh no, I thought.  This car isn’t fixed after all!   I pressed the pedal once more, the car nearly stalled and then I realized something important.

That pedal, the one I pressed?  It was the brake pedal.  Yes, I seemed to have confused the gas pedal with the brake pedal.  A-hem. 

*  *  * 

I returned home to put my daughter to bed and then back out into the world again I went, this time to buy $200.00 worth of groceries.

I am utterly exhausted, but at least we have food again.  (And shampoo and cat food.)  If I’m lucky, my daughter will sleep past 7:00 a.m.  I hope I’m lucky.