Almost Normal

Life is almost returning to a semblance of normality.  I can tell because I fell asleep on the floor of the acupuncturist's reception area while my son was being treated.  I awoke to the sound of their voices in the other room as the treatment ended.  I delivered my son to school, drove into the teacher's parking lot, and changed into clothes I can't fall asleep in to go to the honors assembly at my daughter's school.  Changing in the car is always risky, although it won't be too long before it's more risky for potential onlookers than for me.  [Scratch that: it's been awhile since I have really cared much what anyone sees, though when the clothes are on I dress very modestly.]  The parking lot was uninhabited so I did the quick change but was interrupted by my own son, who is now officially Scarred for Life (this should be good for one session on the therapist's couch.)   I drove to my daughter's school with tons of time to spare as the assembly was scheduled for  8:45 so  I  dawdled a bit , lingering over the Laura Ingraham  show as she played soundbites of Tom Daschle on the Chris Matthews show, formerly known as Hardball, now known as Loser Central.  I finally shifted myself and sauntered over to the gym and saw that, lo and behold, everyone was already there and kids, the 8th grade, were already having their names called.  Of course, the entrance is behind the podium, so if you're late, you have to walk across the gym, run the gauntlet of chairs and assembled personages and wedge your feet between already seated people as  you climb up the bleachers to sit down next to the father of your children who always sits at the top. 

It started at 8:15.

Fortunately, I only had to sit through the calling of six names before Precious Pie was called up.  My husband was moved to  open admiration for my exquisite timing.  In fact, a number of things that I've done recently seem to have made him look at me differently.  Like when I said, "I filled the car for $2.26 a gallon."  Two days ago he said, "You're right" for the fourth time in our marriage (yes, I'm counting; wouldn't you?).

Checking the phase of the moon.