05 January 2010

No Use Crying Over Spoiled Milk

Current mood: cold

You're sitting there thinking your thoughts
They are not about what is but what is not
You are sitting there breathing in your breath
You are seldom breathing life but mostly death
~ “Commissioning A Symphony in C” by Cake

This morning, I opened a new container of milk to pour on my bowl of Cheerios. Due to my rush this morning, I had forgotten my blueberries (and my lunch) at home. Plain cheerios in milk are fine with me. Life has taught me to ALWAYS smell milk before ingesting it. Today, that rule saved me from a very unpleasant experience. The milk was spoiled. It indicated that it was good through February 10 – but apparently it had been exposed to air – because it was definitely no longer fresh. Interestingly enough, it was UHT milk – meaning that it should have had a shelf life through February without refrigeration. It was not, however, Organic UHT milk – which is usually what I use for my cereal since it does indeed have an amazing shelf life without being chilled. NO matter – the fact is, I had another person smell the m ilk – and they agreed it smelled funky. I took it back to the vendor and traded it for a diet soda.

I should have known that my morning was going to be like this – considering it began with me shutting off my alarm and going back to sleep – apparently forgetting that my new shift started this week. Knowing my propensity for oversleeping, I always set more than one alarm – and my preparation did not fail me. The second alarm jarred me awake and I realized the time and that panic set in which wakes a person up and sends them running around the house like a chicken without a head.

With speed generally reserved for fast forwarding a DVR through commercials, I let the dogs out, found clean clothes, brushed my teeth, and grabbed my multitude of bags that I carry to work. After throwing on my boots and a newly created hat my sister made for me, I almost ran out of the house without letting the dogs back in. Luckily Elizabeth’s high-pitched whiny bark caught my attention and the dogs went trotting downstairs to invade my sister’s sleep.

The cold air stole my breath away and I hurriedly grabbed my heated ice scraper to scrape the windows. The sub-zero temps had made the cord brittle, however, and it snapped off of the no-longer heated ice scraper. Cursing, I removed what I could from the windows, and then drove down the hill toward the interstate. Traffic was lighter than I expected (the joy of leaving for work before 7am). It was while I was on the interstate that I remembered I hadn’t yet put the new license plates on Lucius. BLOODY HELL! There was nothing I could do at that point so I drove through the dark morning, hoping watching my speed so that I wouldn’t attract any attention from police during my morning commute.

Why would a 2010 Honda Civic without license plates attract information on a cold, wintry day? I have no idea . . . but guess what . . . it did. I saw the cop’s laptop in his car 10 seconds before he turned his sirens on. I looked at the clock in my car and prayed I could make the chat a quick one sans ticket! It was precisely at that moment when yesterday’s events came flashing back.

Sprinting through the civic center and entering the DMV as they were locking the door -- he 30 minutes at the counter staring at my new license plates but unable to grab them – the lack of an insurance card – the mainframe going down – falling in a snow drift – no parking – UGH!!! – 20 people standing in line at the post office 2 minutes before they closed – the very angry postal worker yelling at a patron for being in front of the “eye” so she couldn’t close and lock the Jedi style doors -- getting home after dark and unable to put on my new plates – my papa’s warning about getting those plates put on before I left in the morning – waking up late - - - you get the picture. . .

As these thoughts flashed, I grabbed the new license plates and registration from my messenger bag. The officer approached my window and I handed him everything the DMV had given me. I took advantage of my gender and started apologizing for not getting them put on the car, explained I had no tools and that it was dark when I got home and that I was hoping someone at work would be able to put them on for me . . . I offered him my Derivers License, but he said he didn’t need to see it, he just needed to see my proof of insurance. I then began doing the frantic search one does when they know that what they are looking for isn’t there – but perhaps if they just keep looking, it will appear miraculously as a gift from above. I also realized I was babbling to the officer about how sorry I was that my idiocy forced him to stand out in the cold while I searched for my insurance card. He must have realized how cold he was, because he told me not to worry about it and just to get the plates put on as soon as I could. He then offered the required, “be careful getting back on the interstate”. I thanked him, apologized once again, and took off before he changed his mind.

I made it to work with 3 minutes to spare.

FYI -- It is supposed to snow 5 – 7 inches tomorrow – let’s give thanks for the reversal of global warming this winter. Kum by yah!


CONDIFENTIAL NOTE: India Lima Oscar Victor Echo Yankee Oscar Uniform Lima Oscar Tango Sierra.

Eidetic Vision

Main Entry: ei·det·ic Pronunciation: I-'det-ik Function: adjective : marked by or involving extraordinarily accurate and vivid recall especially of visual images - an eidetic memory Merriam-Webster's Dictionary, © 2002 Merriam-Webster, Inc.