I was driver #8,742.
I studied the scowling guy in the landscaping truck over in the next lane. I wondered if this traffic jam was going to be the breaking point for the poor man's mental status, and tomorrow he'd get to work and go postal on the bermuda grass. Hey, you never know. Neighbors shaking their heads and saying, "He's just not the kind of guy you'd think would go berserk and attack innocent shrubbery with a weed whacker."
In the seat next to me, my agitated son was wondering why God would not simply part the ocean of cars in front of us, a la Moses & the Red Sea. To his 12-year-old way of thinking, getting to hockey practice was obviously a lot more important than hiking through the desert in your bathrobe.
Then I got this urgent call on my cell phone, from my oldest son: "Mom, I'm cooking hot dogs and we're out of buns."
Mm. How to respond?
- Hold on. I have to get out of the car and look to see if it's a delivery truck with an Orowheat emblem on the side.
- No problem. I keep a emergency package of hot dog buns in the trunk, right there with the jumper cables and first aid kit.
- I'll stop at the next grocery store I see, buy some buns, and have them sent right over via African swallow. I'd get them there sooner, but my transporter isn't working.
- I'm at mile marker #118. Bring me some flour, yeast, and milk, and I'll whip some up. They can bake on the idling engine block, which is nearing a gazillion degrees.
Seriously, am I the only mother who gets called to remedy all manner of food crises when she's 60 miles from home? I can be on another continent, in a different time zone, where it costs $40 a second to use my cell phone, and I'll get a call from my kids, "Mom! There's only a tablespoon of wasabi horseradish left in the jar! What are we supposed to do?!" I usually say, "Have you mentioned this to your dad?" And what do they tell me? "No. We didn't want to bother him while he's playing Halo. So can you come home and pick some up on your way into town?"
Well, I'd love to rant more, but I'm approaching mile marker 118.5, and I think we might be off the highway in the next hour or two. Then I have to find a Sam's Club, because I just received a text message, from my kids, consisting of a 94 item grocery list.