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3:09 p.m. - 2011-03-29
Anybody want a peanut?

In which our heroine receives disappointing news with an unexpected upside, kicks her own ass, and is menaced by a zamboni driver.

Tomorrow was supposed to be…(*booming thunder, lightning flashes, ominous organ music*)…THE BIG MEETING!!!! The big ass whoop-dee-doo IEP meeting where Wolf's educational future would be hashed out and a decision made about exactly where he'll attend high school. Wolf's busted his hump to bring his behavior and attitude into line so he could leave his current school and return to regular district school for his freshman year. The transition, however, will be bumpy. Wolf is going to need some help. Class size is way bigger. Lessons are taught much faster. The homework load is far more than the piddly bit he's getting now. Plus Podunkville's population isn't transient like other towns. Thanks to a two decade-long building moratorium and a lot of inherited money that comes with the ancestral homestead most of Podunkville's residents are born here, grow up here, get old and die here. This means at least 95% of the kids at Podunkville High are going to be the very same kids who Wolf had gone to elementary school with until he was expelled and began his career in alternative education. Many of them will remember him and they will NOT be kind. Add in the district's notorious disinclination to provide any help or services for special ed students and this was shaping up to be a whopper of a fight.

Darling Mick, who takes his job as Wolf's step-father very seriously, had put in for a personal day so he could attend the meeting with me. Not that he'd have much to say, it's moral support for me and he does frown impressively. Mick's large, slightly intimidating presence will be a comfort to me and hopefully make the district's bean counters think twice before saying no to anything.

However I got a call this morning from the district's secretary. The director of special ed services is in the hospital and the meeting has to be rescheduled. I called Mick back, we'd just spoken a couple minutes earlier, and gave him the option of canceling the personal day or taking it anyway and staying home with me. He opted for the latter. The sub had already been arranged so there'd be a hassle to take back the day, so why not use and enjoy it? We'll sleep in and after a leisurely brunch spend some quality time alone in the house.

Cool beans.

Not so cool was my body's reaction to this morning's workout. It was #3 for those counting along at home. And today, though I didn't go nuts and up my reps and weight and speed by a lot, I got slammed with serious post-workout fatigue. Hadn't gotten much sleep last night and was still full from the anniversary dinner (which rocked, btw, good grub, excellent service) so I skipped breakfast. Dumb, I know, but I just didn't feel like choking down a bowl of corn flakes and a banana before dragging myself off to the gym.

Unfortunately I couldn't just limp back home and collapse, I had to stop by Sam's for yet another pharmacy run. You'd think we're all on meds out the wazoo the way I'm always going there, but it's just our refill timing got all bollixed up some months ago and the insurance will only pay for certain meds at certain intervals, hence your pal the Sage makes more drug runs than your average crackhead. The pharmacy was busy, of course, and the wait time was longer than usual and expected.

This is where I was menaced by the zamboni driver.

I know zamboni machines are the things that groom the ice at skating rinks. The floor at Sam's is concrete, not ice. But they use a very similar contraption to sweep/wash the floor and not ever being important enough to me to find out the actual name, I've just always called that bulky ride-on cleaning machine a 'floor zamboni'. Sue me.

This morning with time to kill while waiting for my meds I staggered off to browse the dvds and books. And here came the zamboni guy. Fine. I moved along so he could do his job and then doubled back to continue my browsing. And here he came again! WTF? This time I didn't budge and made him swerve around me.

Well! The game was on! Mr "I Am Very Important and Drive a Big Badass Floor Zamboni" was seriously pissed off by my lack of deference. Everywhere I moved after that he HAD to come bearing down on me before barely swerving off and then only after he'd made sure I knew he didn't appreciate me getting in HIS way! I even tried ducking down aisles that had quite obviously just been cleaned. Didn't matter. This loony was going to run me out of HIS store with HIS Very Important Floor Zamboni for daring to disrespect the right of way of the floor zamboni driver. The leer on this guy's face was ridiculous. Second only to Inigo Montoya in having an overdeveloped sense of vengeance I swear I could hear this guy thinking, "Hello! I am The Zamboni Driver! You got in MY way! Prepare to die!"

Just wanting to get my damn bupropion and go home already I gave up browsing and hied up front to the snack bar and got myself a diet cherry coke. Slumped over the table, slowly sipping my soda, I heard the maniacal whirr of rotating brushes and the slurp of the suds vacuum. OH MY GOD! It was the floor zamboni! This crazy mofo had followed me! He barged through one of the check-out lanes and headed right at me.

"Hello! I am The Zamboni Driver! You got in MY way! Prepare to die!"

Completely freaked out I jumped up, weary body and all, and booked it toward the pharmacy throwing terrified glances over my shoulder as I ran.

Praise be to heaven, when I got there my 'scrip was ready. I threw the money at poor bewildered Naomi, snatched the bag out of her hand and got my ass the hell OUT of Sam's Club.

As much as I appreciate Mick coming with me to The Big Meeting, I think I'll be needing him more when I go to pick up prescriptions from now on.


Beware of insane zamboni drivers, ~LA

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