Evilest

Younger had to register for school yesterday. And he can no longer pretend July will last for eternity.

“I hate that place,” he groused, slouched in his seat. “I think it’s the people. They’re evil.”

“Hey, Big Guy Too is one of those people. Big Guy Too isn’t evil, is he?”

“Ah, yes, he is,” Younger insisted. “He’s the evilest.”

I sighed. “Most evil, Younger,” I corrected. “If you’re going to hate on school, at least do so while being grammatically correct.”

“I think that defeats the purpose,” he objected.

I had to admit he was making some kind of sense.

And now I’m scared.

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No Good Plan

Monday was Elder’s first day at his new job.

So, you can imagine the panic as, emerging from the shower, I heard the back door slam and Elder yell, “Mom! Mom! I need your car keys. My car won’t start. Mom!”

So, in my bathrobe, I rushed down the stairs, hurdling over the dogs on the landing to hit the next seven steps. “Here,” I told him, tossing him the keys.

“I have no guess what happened,” he muttered, walking towards the door.

“Well, I have a guess,” I told his back.

Because he has a habit of sitting in his car for half an hour after reaching home, listening to his radio with the dome light on. Then forgetting to turn the light off when he finally retreats into the house. And his dad has warned him and warned him.

But as he slipped through the door, I had bigger issues than an we-told-you-so moment. He was taking my car and leaving me with his dead battery. And I had a class in four hours.

Now, I happen to know that the instructor is an understanding, easygoing type.

Because I am actually the instructor.

Which makes it a little more important that I actually arrive at class.

Besides, I had plans. Big plans to finish grading essays and to prepare for class discussion. And the internet at the house was down. So, I had accomplished nothing.

Nothing.

And now I had no way to escape my house to accomplish something.

Anything.

“Uhmmm,” I hedged in a phone call to my husband. “You need an excuse to leave work early?”

But apparently, we have a battery charger in our very own garage. So, I learned, in almost triple digit heat, how to charge a car battery.

My husband walked me through every step.

Every.

Step.

“You’ll need to find the extension cord on the shelves in the garage,” he told me. “And plug the extension cord into the outlet.”

And I would have been sarcastic but he quickly followed with, “The last thing you will do is plug the charger into the extension cord.”

I glanced down at the charger already humming in my hands. “Last thing, huh?”

“Yeah, because that will turn the charger on. You’ll hear it hum.”

“Hum, huh?” I murmured, unplugging the charger from the extension cord. “Interesting.”

But I managed to start the car without killing myself.

So, here is what I learned: don’t make plans.

Plans are just an invitation for life to mess with you.

I don’t need to offer no invitations.

I’ll just let life be rude and drop in on me.