Morning scramble
The alarm went off way too early the next morning. Blurry eyed I stumbled out of bed to start my day. From the kitchen I could smell coffee and sausage. My darling spouse was already up, making breakfast and watching Scooby Doo if I wasn’t mistaken.
“Overachiever.” I muttered towards the kitchen as I climbed in the white wood tiled shower, water turned to just below boiling. Why had I married a morning person?
Since I’d recently chopped off my currently golden blonde hair, it only took fifteen minutes to shower and do my hair. I’d been trying to get the collar of my blouse to lie on the lapel of my jacket like it was supposed to when Jesse texted me that breakfast was ready. It would appear that I was running late like usual. I scooped up my jewelry to dash to the kitchen. Hopefully, I would have time to put it on before we left. During the short walk across the living room, I managed to hop into the hot pink heels that matched the blouse under my black jacket.
Savannah was already at the table picking at a breakfast burrito. Knowing my tendencies to be late, Jesse had wrapped my burrito in foil so it would still be warm when I got to the office in an hour or so depending on the traffic on 360. He paused his way back to our room to finish getting ready to dramatically grab me, recline me backwards, and plant one on me. We laughed as Savannah ewwwed from the kitchen.
“Mom, we need to leave in three minutes! Stop making out with dad. You’re old.”
“Never too old to make out. Have you seen my walker?” All I got was an eye roll. “Am I too old to drive? That would suck for you seeing as how you won’t take the bus.”
“If you’d just let me ride with Eddy, you wouldn’t have to drop me off!” Savannah was gearing up for what was becoming a regular morning whine fest. “Then you wouldn’t have to leave so early.”
“Which one is Eddy again?” Names weren’t really my thing. Besides, I was a little distracted trying to fasten my bracelet with my teeth while getting my lunch out of the fridge.
She sighed and rolled her eyes at me. “Jock Boy.”
I sighed back. Jock Boy had game, both on and off the field. “You want me to let you ride in Jock Boy’s truck? Oh, I don’t think so little girl.”
“Mom! I’m fifteen. Practically an adult.” She sounded offended. Oh well.
I scowled at her and pointed a finger at her. “You never climb in a boy’s truck. Nothing good can come from it. They just want to swap cooties.”
“Eww. Mom! Gross.” A gleam came into her eyes. “So, I can’t ride with any boys?”
“You can ride with your daddy. No one else.” My words were slightly mumbled since I had an earring back in my mouth.
“What about grandpa?” Oh, she thought she had me.
“Nope. Not since his midlife crisis and traded in his sedan for a motorcycle. He drives that thing like a madman.” I inventoried my hands. Purse, phone, and lunch. Wait, something was missing.
“Has anyone seen my keys?” I was fairly certain I’d left them on the bar when I got home yesterday.
“Have you checked the key bowl by the door?” Jesse answered while walking across the living room to the dining room. He plucked my keys out of the bowl on the table by the door to the garage.
“What are they doing in there?” I tuned out his lecture about a place for everything and everything in its place. Keys in hand, I kissed my hubby goodbye then ushered our child out the door. In the garage I took a moment to stick the Jack In The Box antenna ball on Jesse’s truck. I’d been waiting for him to lecture me about putting things in their proper place since I’d found it in one of our many junk drawers over the weekend. He’d hated those things when they came out years ago. But, since he said everything should be in its place, it belonged on an antenna, and it wasn’t going on mine.
An hour later, the kid was dropped off; I had my morning coffee and was sitting in my office reading email trying to decide if any of them actually applied to me. When there were no new emails left, I switched over to the thrill of bouncing spreadsheets off each other.
Hours later I was dragged out of my work when my desk phone rang. The caller ID identified the caller as my mother. I took a bracing breath before I picked it up.
“Hello mother.”
“Hello daughter. Savannah get to school ok?” My mother’s slight southern drawl flowed through the line. Judging by the background noise, she was calling me on her way home from Zumba class. Or line dancing. I couldn’t remember what she did on Thursdays. She was an active senior. We exchanged a few pleasantries before she got to the reason for her call. She was calling because her mother had stopped by this morning. Surprise surprise.
“Mom, you knew it was going to piss her off. “