Okay... I've been shirking my blogging duties. But that's totally normal for me. I love to procrastinate. I get a forbidden thrill when I put off my blog, like when I used to cut school or leave work early to go to a concert. I just get the feeling like I'm doing something wrong, and yet it feels so right.
This first dumb ass moment is dedicated to the Denver Public School's Department of Transportation.
I hate my son's bus schedule. His school doesn't start until 9 am and classes end at 3:45 pm. His bus comes to pick him up at 7:30 am and if they are running on time they drop him off at 5 pm, fricking 5 pm!
Sometimes when the bus is running early they just drop Phoenix at the stop and drive off without checking to make sure he is with a parent. The first time it happened I called the route supervisor and as calmly as possible told him that I was VERY unhappy. He assured me that it would never happen again.
Last week, or maybe it was the week before, I forget, we had a day of rain followed by two days of snow. I got to Phoenix's school at 4:51 pm and he was standing there all alone, in the rain, and crying because he was scared.
I felt like the worst parent in the world and was choking on the wrath I felt toward the bus driver. When we got home I left an extremely nasty message on the supervisor's voice mail, because that late in the day their offices are closed, and spent the rest of the day pampering Phoenix to ease the trauma of the whole experience.
The supervisor spoke to me the next day and, once again, told me it would never happen again. Now I understand it wasn't his fault. It's not like he was driving the bus. So I was less angry with him. I explained that we don't live in the best of neighborhoods and if anything happened to my child after the bus left him there alone I would have ended up owning the department after the law suits were over.
I hope he can scare his employees enough to get them to stop dropping students off early, but I'm still going to show up as early as possible to the bus stop. I don't want to have to sue them because that would mean something bad happened to my son.
I just want him to be safe. Is that really too much to ask?
So to the D.P.S. D.O.T. I salute you as a Dumb Ass.
The other night I went to work and for once no one was there to hear my shrieking voice attempting to hold a tune.
I was walking down the stairs after mopping the floor in the upstairs office when I tripped over the mop. The following chaos was strait out of a Marks Brothers bit. Instead of letting the mop handle go I held on, for some reason, and it pulled me face first into the door jamb at the foot of the stairs. I smacked my forehead on the wall and scraped my shoulder on the jamb. The force I hit the door with caused me to rebound and I fell on the stairs with my back also hitting the back of my head on the edge of a step. The impact was so hard the wind was knocked out of me.
After I could breath again I started laughing hysterically. It was just too funny. I wasn't hurt very badly but I ended up having a headache for a day and the bumps on the front and back of my head have yet to disappear.
That move totally proves I'm a Dumb Ass.
Yesterday I was taking some watercolor pictures that the boys had painted and taping them into a composition book that I keep pictures and drawings in. I ran out of scotch tape so I had to use clear packing tape.
I don't know how it happened but I managed to tape my right hand to the painting. It was weird. I didn't want to damage the picture by pulling my hand out, that packing tape would have ripped it to shreds if I had tried to pull it off the paper. So I decided to use scissors with my left hand.
(BD + Sharp Things = Dumb Ass Moment)
At least I managed not to get any blood on the picture.
In the moment when I released my hand from the tape I jambed the tip of the scissors, Ginsu scissors no less, under the nail of my middle finger. The damn appendage lit off like a geyser. It actually squirted a little, but when I put pressure on it the bleeding slowed and eventually stopped.
Even my son, the soon to be Kindergartner, knows how to be careful with scissors. I worked at Subway for years and had to handle knives and razor sharp slicers all day long. One would think I would have learned how not to stab myself by now. Jeez, it's so sad.
Yes I am still a Dumb Ass.