My first day of actual class ON CAMPUS was yesterday. First day of school!
Instead of being nervous about meeting new people, being the oldest one in the room, and lets be totally honest – leaving my Snuggie at home – I decided to do some Oprah-style visualization and see myself as Teacher’s Pet, Straight A Student, and Smarty Pants.
I planned to get everything together Monday night, but as it turns out, we were having some bad weather. Which meant that we got the call that Thing One had a two hour delay scheduled for Tuesday morning, Thing Two didn’t have school at all, and my campus was opening at 10.
This may come as a surprise to you, but I? Am not good with change. Or first days of school. Or basically anything that makes me have to leave my house and go out into the world to act like a sane person.
But I’m medicated now, so I thought to myself “Self? What do you say we try to navigate this off-kilter morning without any panic, shrill voice, or sweat?”
And my response to myself was “What the hell, let’s give it a go.”
So. I took a deep breath. And I sketched out a plan. I live and die by a plan. They make me feel safe. Not panicky. A little less crazy. So I made a plan. And then I got started.
Text Mrs. Tim ∙ Make Kids Breakfast ∙ Change over the laundry ∙ Check phone for response ∙ Take shower ∙ Start washing machine ∙ Fuss at kids for arguing ∙ Get dressed in something College Coed Chic ∙ Fuss at kids for not getting dressed ∙ Check phone again for response ∙ pack my lunch ∙ double check everything is still on a 2 hour delay ∙ Fuss at kids for sitting there quietly ∙ Apologize for the last fuss ∙ Hear the phone ring and make quick decision NOT to ignore it ∙ See it is Mrs. Tim calling about my text ∙ Breathe sigh of relief ∙ Get Thing Two to Mrs. Tim’s, Thing One to school ∙ Swing by Trophy Husband’s office to rob his wallet of it’s cash because I left the debit card on the kitchen table ∙ Got On The Road. 45 minute drive to campus.
And I made it. Executed beautifully and with an absence of sweat.
I was in town plenty early, and I pulled into Starbucks. I thought I’d run in and grab a skim iced chai latte (After I ask the calorie count , because I ALSO made a plan to keep track of such things) and double check the location of my class. I spoke briefly with Trophy Husband to let him know I survived the icy roads. I grabbed my cash and just my laptop – the easiest way to get on my school website to get class info – locked the car door and went in.
Me: Do you have the calorie counts for your drinks? (See? Still working the plan)
Starbucks Lady: Sure.
She pulls out and unfolds this enormous pamphlet with about a gazillion drinks, extra shots, and special orders on it, and together we look up my drink. 150 calories! I order it. She’s making it. I sit at the table and open up the laptop, find my building assignment, and make a mental note. I close it back up. I pay for my drink.
Still no sweat.
I pick up my coffee and my computer and turn for the door. And then? It hits me.
I don’t have my car keys.
**Cue the sweat.**
I locked my fricking keys in the car. AND my phone. AND my laptop cord. AND my purse. AND my lunch.
So, I open the computer back up and email Trophy Husband. This is kind of a process because, even though he is the proud owner of a sweet new phone, he has not yet learned to use it. So, I Facebook him. I email and Facebook our neighbor. And I dig through archives of emails to see if I have his actual work email address (I did) and I try to get to him all while playing beat the clock with my crappy laptop battery that is draining a bit more quickly than I am entirely comfortable with.
And I get a napkin. For the sweat.
I then decide to reach out to my homies and I get on The Twitter.
@MrsFatass: Do I have any Greenville area Tweeps who own a slim jim and know how to use it?
Well. No luck. But lots of people chit chatted with me to help me pass the time. And it turns out the good Twitter friend of mine who got me in with Dr. Awesome was only 3 blocks away and was able to help me figure out where I was so I could email Trophy Husband who was finding me a locksmith.
And then it happened. It. IT. IIIIIITTTTTT.
Across my Tweetdeck I see that Chef Rocco DiSpirito? Has retweeted the link to my giveaway post. Holy Shitballs, I’m tweeting with my alternate! And my ever so eloquent response? @MrsFatass: OH MY GOSH ROCCO DISPIRITO JUST RETWEETED ME!
Cue the buckets. To catch all the sweat. Which is now dripping off of my forehead. Sexy, I know.
So, then I didn’t know what to do. I mean, seriously, what do you when the celebrity chef whose cookbook you’re doing a giveaway for and who ALSO appears on your List of Five as an alternate retweets the link to the giveaway post?
Thanks! @RoccoDispirito RT Hey Rocco, call me! . . .
Smooth. I know, I’ve got a way with words I do.
And I begin to think “What if he is actually trying to call me?” and I panic. Both because I don’t have my phone AND becuase I have that weird phone phobia. And it doesn’t even dawn on me that he doesn’t have my number because anxiety is just not rational, and I am so worried that I won’t be able to document this moment with a photo that I leave his Twitter page with ME on top up on the laptop until I get home so I am sure to be able to share this moment with all of you. And I begin to worry that if he DID read the post he’s pissed that he’s an alternate and not on the actual list, so should I go really quick and edit the post and make him number two? And by the way CAN SOMEBODY TURN DOWN THE HEAT? IT’S FLIPPING HOT IN HERE!!!!
Meanwhile, my battery continues to drain and I continue to have no idea when a locksmith is going to get here because Trophy Husband is doing the work of 3 people PLUS trying to save the day, and I can’t seem to make him understand that I am slowly losing touch with reality about to lose complete contact with him when the laptop dies.
Me: I need to know a timeline. What am I going to do when the laptop dies?
Him: I guess you’ll just have to plug it in.
Really? Are you kidding me? WHAT PART OF I LOCKED MY ENTIRE LIFE IN THE CAR DIDN’T YOU UNDERSTAND????
Well. I eventually made him understand. And then? The laptop died. And there I sat. In Starbucks. In the window. Looking out at the rain. Slurping my straw and my empty cup. Looking for a locksmith truck. Missing my Blackberry. And sweating.
Eventually a guy named Duke or Devin or some D name like that shows up and in about point two seconds has me back in my car. I want to kiss him, but opt to shake hands. I get in the car and check my phone and no lie I have 47 unchecked emails and I’ve never been so happy. And I call Trophy Husband and apologize for the email yelling and I look at the clock and it’s 2:20. Class has ended. I missed my first class.
Or so I think.
Last night I got online to do a little homework and send an email to my professor and you know what? At some point during all that madness, the two hour delay was stretched til 4:00 PM. I didn’t miss class after all.
And that, my friends, is why I need drugs to stay sane.