Late for Work (or how I wouldn’t survive a zombie apocalypse)

I woke up late this morning cursing at myself – quietly so I wouldn’t wake A – for my inevitable late arrival at work. I hopped in the tub for a quick shower, and after, while drying my hair I pulled a muscle in my neck. Yes, that’s right, apparently I needed my hair so dry that extreme force was needed. In all seriousness I really just aggravated my neck which I pulled a muscle in during an unrelated incident.

So, on to gathering my essentials for the day. Wallet, insulin pens, glucose meter, phone, security card, and a few other things I grab simply by habit.

I look at the time. I have eleven minutes until my bus comes. If I hurry, I wont be late.

I then realize I used my last bus ticket to get home from work yesterday. FRACK! I check my pockets, the computer desk, A’s wallet and then finally scrounge up enough for bus fare.

I check the time. Five minutes until the bus arrives at my stop. I can make it if I run.

I put on my coat, back pack, shoes and go over my mental check list.

  • Keys
  • Diabetes paraphernalia
  • Security card
  • Phone
  • Wallet

Got it, lets go.

Man it’s cold out this morning. I check the time. Three minutes until the bus arrives.

Time to start pumping my legs like I am being chased by a pack of rabid zombies. Not the slow kind either. The ones that run as fast as a sprinter and don’t get tired.

Run boy run!

I turn the corner and make it half way to the stop and watch as the bus zooms by. I curse at myself, and a little at the bus driver for good measure. I then realize I’d never survive a zombie apocalypse and curse at myself again.

I’d be lying if I said I’ve never done this. o_O

Now I am calmly waiting for the next bus that should arrive in fifteen minutes, making me twenty minutes late for work.

My neck hurts.

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Ducks are Bullies too

Scary Duck!A little while back I was putting my oldest son to bed and he told me about a dream he had where a “scary” duck came into his room and was scaring him, keeping him on his bed. I told him if he faces what he fears it’s no longer scary. Did I stop there? No. That wasn’t enough. I told him to confront the duck and tell him to go away. I didn’t just tell him, I got up and demonstrated how he should do it with authority and a bit of a threat in his tone! In all honesty I was getting a little riled up about it.

 

Mel Gibson as William Wallace wearing woad.

When I sat back down he looked inspired like I had just repeated that great speech in Braveheart where William Wallace gets his troops inspired in the face of certain doom.

Why did I become so dramatic? I’m not sure, but I am very anti-bullying and it digs a hole in my heart when my little man is distraught about something like that. It became more about handling bullies than it did about the duck, even though I never mentioned bullies or bullying. We’ve had that talk a few times.

I’m still waiting to hear about the dream where he kicks a ducks ass all up and down his room. 😉