Wacky Wednesday

The raccoons are at it again. I left my house at 9:00 AM this morning. The kids are supposed to be in their classrooms at 9:00 AM. I had to be down in Palm Bay for an appointment by 9:30. I needed to be pulling out of the driveway by 8:45 to have any chance of sticking to this time schedule. But first I had to pick up nasty wet trash full of sodden, disintegrating bedtime diapers and rotten broccoli and Oh, I won't go into any more detail. I'll spare you. I'll have some compassion where the raccoons certainly did not. Did it take me 15 minutes to pick up this trash? No. I was late for lots of reasons, but I am happy to place the blame solely on the raccoons. It makes me look better.
So I was running late. I had a wierd morning. I got to meet Dave for lunch which was good, and I ran into TJ Maxx and finally captured the perfect purse! I have been looking for a Kathy Von Zeeland one, you know, the kind of tacky ones that are all shiny and have lots of silvery jingle jangle bits hanging off of them? And I found the MOST gorgeous one. I keep petting it. Today was a day where I needed to be able to delude myself into thinking that happiness can be bought. I came home, and had this endless stretch of the day to fill. My Mom picked up the kids from preschool, so I had the whole afternoon to myself, which is normally like my dearest dream. But today I just felt strange. I don't know if I am lonely, or what. I couldn't get anything accomplished. Not even relaxing, which is what my Mom wanted me to accomplish. I am still running a fever and feeling awful. In spite of all of this wonderful medicine I have ingested. The doctor called in some heebie-jeebie cough syrup for me yesterday. It had codiene in it and it should have knocked me out but I could not go to sleep last night. I wept during McCain's speech and during Obama's speech. I don't remember an election night ever inspiring so many emotions in me. So I was sitting around the messy house with a long list of to-dos, too distracted by guilt at not getting anything done to actually give myself permission to relax. (I do think some of my feelings could be attributed to the steroids they gave me. I'm all revved up but too sick to enjoy it.)
I talked to my Mom on the phone, and she casually mentioned that she had to sign an incident report when she picked Jon up from preschool. Why? Because some kid punched him in the face. I asked Jonathan about it when he came home. Did he hit you with a toy? No, I just got a punch. Then the teacher gave me a sponge.
Hmmm.
I got a phone call today. Someone asking me if I was still looking for a teaching position. I said, yes, possibly. Even though there is no way I could take a job right now. I am not going to yank the kids out of school to find a full-time preschool daycare, especially not with my stepdad being so sick. So somehow I would up chatting with this person like I was actually interested (because right at that moment, I was caught off guard and did feel like I was actually interested), agreed to send my resume right over. Now I need to figure out how to extract myself from this situation without leaving a crazy trail behind me, since I might actually want to get a job sometime (like maybe next fall). I guess I should just e-mail her and say never mind. In a more wordy way, of course.
I looked out the window today while I was talking to my brother on the phone. The people who live across the street, well, let's just say that I think they are good people, but they will send me into total anxiety and despair whenever we decide to sell our house. I looked out the window, and I saw one of the little girls that lives there lying under the back tires of their Grandma's van. Two of the foster kids who live there were swinging at her. I would have gone out to help the little girl lying under the tire, but she was laughing hysterically and the two other kids are much younger than her. One of them is a tiny little curly-headed toddler. He was trying his best to beat her with a broom that he could barely pick up. Then their mangy one-eyed dog got in on the fun, rolling around in the gravel driveway and trying to bite them all.
When Dave got home, I was whining about having to pick up the raccoon trash. He always apologizes for this. I don't know if he feels responsible for us having to live with so many raccoons, or if he feels bad that I had to pick it up because he considers it a manly chore and one that I should not have to do. But the funny thing was, is that he had already picked the trash up once this morning! Are the raccoons just trying to make sure they are driving us as crazy as possible?
Jonathan got his finger hurt at my Mom's house. Some sort of Little Tikes Cozy Coupe accident. Anna is coughing her head off (which I think might just be allergies?). Dave is really sick. We have no groceries at all in the house. But I did mop the floor and wash one afghan today! That's something, right? And I wrote this amazing, utterly fascinating blog.