peevish mama

Today was parent pick-up day at school, meaning there were no buses, meaning the parents were supposed to pick up the children.  I had it written in my calendar, I swear.  But in an effort to clean, I had momentarily moved it.  Apparently, if my calendar isn’t yawning open, shaking its calendar tits in my face  I’m a goner.  I’m like a baby who hasn’t figured out object permanence.  Where’s the ball?  It’s gone!  Forever!  Oh, there it is.  Now it’s gone!  Calendar shut means no appointments, nothing going on, nothing to remember.  Total Freebird. 

And I don’t even have the decency to have a good excuse.  What was I doing when I got the humiliating call from Lenore, the school secretary, who had a forgotten and baleful Supergirl sitting in her office?  I can tell you I wasn’t racing against the clock to file a brief, I wasn’t listening for a heart murmur on my cardiac patient, I wasn’t squinting down the eyepiece of an electron microscope, I wasn’t ladling soup at a shelter. I wasn’t kneading bread, or making a soufflé or cleaning my house.  No, I was downloading My Kinda Lover by Billy Squier off iTunes.