Some days just don’t go as planned. Today is one of them.
The weekend was good but hectic with lots of running running running to get to places on time. Doodles and Pie had their last morning of hockey. Hockey ended at 10:30. Pie had a birthday party to attend at 10:30. Run run run. On Sunday, Doodles had Hebrew School at 9. Pie had an introduction to Hebrew school at 9. So Adam took them because I had a 5k race at 11, a baby shower at 11:30, and, as it turned out, Cub Scouts at 3. Run run run.
I promised a friend to run this 5k with her, to make sure she got over the finish line, which she did in fabulous style. She ran faster than I think she had anticipated and it was great. And wet. Very wet. We’ve got a Nor’easter going on here with, if I may, wicked winds and rain. Oy, the rain. We were soaked before we even got into the car, never mind the race. But let me tell you, the St. Paddy’s Day crowd in Somerville is a dedicated one and the race was packed. And the lines for the pubs after were insane. Not that I went. Because I ran to the baby shower.
Show up at the shower, run upstairs to change my clothes. Only… I forgot a dry pair of shoes and a dry bra. So I put my lovely shirt on over my jog bra (which had been under both my shirt and my jacket), but as it was soaking wet, I soon sported what looked like two lovely milk leaks. Fun times! I spent the whole party with my hands crossed over my chest, a la a junior high girl with new breasts, until I got teased one too many times so I flipped my shirt backwards.
I got home with a whole half hour to dry off, greet my family, change my clothes and then get the boy to Scouts.
All the while, I was keeping my fingers crossed. Every Facebook status, it seems, of local folk, every message on the town’s Parents e-mail list, even some e-mails on the school’s PTO list, was pleading for help on how to get water out of basements. My fingers are crossed. My fingers are crossed. My fingers are crossed.
Guess what? It doesn’t work. Adam is home right now trying to concoct some Rube Goldberg-style contraption to get the water out of our basement. Of course, there’s not a sump pump to be found, so Adam asked his father who lives the next state over to scour the hardware stores there and to bring one to us. His father is currently searching. I won’t bother keeping my fingers crossed that he’ll find one. The next step is to build an ark. I swear I saw two squirrels and two raccoons waiting patiently by our back door.
But at least it’s a blessed Monday, so while Adam vacuums out the basement, I can give my novel that final read over and try to get it out the door. Oh, wait! That’s right. Pie has no school today. For some random conference. But she does have a room full of Polly Pockets and Groovy Girl dolls that she wants me to play with.
Good times, people. Good times.
Have you tried the A-list? I see people asking/offering pumps there all the time.
Everyone is asking for them! But my father-in-law came through and he and Adam are sumping as I type!