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.


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. 😉