And, clearly, I am the reason we can’t have nice things

The Magpie got out of bed on time today, excited to head back to school and see her friends who hadn’t attended day camp with her throughout the summer. Though she found her school clothes a little less comfortable than her summer shorts and dresses, we were ready and out the door even earlier than I hoped.

On our way to school, we were re-routed at a busy intersection due to (1) construction. On the first day of school. During rush hour. But we persevered through side streets and four-way stops to arrive on time and find safe parking that didn’t require too much thought. Because, you know, I’m (2) still sick and it was early in the morning. Let’s not tempt fate.

Drop off was as uneventful as it could possibly be. Parents congregated in the front hall to catch up until we were summarily kicked out with the start of classes. I returned to the car with most of the day stretched out in front of me.

Lots of time for coffee.

I got a great parking spot at the mall near the coffee shop, found several of the really-need items on my list, didn’t get too hung up about not finding the nice-to-haves and packed up to head home for a bit of cleaning and resting. Because I’m (3) still sick. Rest is good.

My awesome parking spot wasn’t so brilliant in the light of later morning, now that spots were filling up. But! There was no one parked directly behind me. I backed up into the spot, keeping a close eye on (4) the car next to me. But not, it seems, keeping an eye on the low concrete barrier on the other side. The resulting scrape startled, not only me, but the (5) half-dozen folk nearby who were either all so young or so old as to be overly startled by unexpected sounds. In the way that made me (6) fear for their health and well-being, never mind my car.

Having still not yet seen the barrier, I thought I’d backed into something and crunched the bumper until I actually exited the car to see the damage. The resulting scrape seems minor in comparison to what happened in my head, but still not the kind of thing I want to have on my list of things I’ve done.

So, now I must leave to go gather my child from her first day back at school. She will bring home stories and supplies and maybe even a  scrape of her own from some of the new playground equipment. I hope not, but she’s six. Scrapes happen.

But, today, it’s not just her; it turns out that neither one of us should be operating heavy machinery.

 

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