I planned a visit to the office this morning to get ready for next semester. I didn’t take a shower and all the clothes I tried on fit terribly and didn’t feel good on me. I accepted that, grudgingly. As we walked out the door, daughter admitted she did poorly on her math test. She threw a little tantrum. In the car, she explained that the teacher had explained how to do it one way but then marked that way wrong on the test. I held her hand and commiserated. My children’s biggest problems at school involve miscommunications from teachers. These teachers can’t know how much that is breaking my children’s hearts. They feel so powerless. When she left the car, I didn’t feel like going to the office, knowing I wouldn’t concentrate. So I went to the home improvement store to find out how to patch potholes in the driveway.
Ends up you just buy a bag of rocks mixed in tar and tamp it down. I found the only piece of plastic I haven’t given away–an Obama-Biden 2012 cup from our East Hampton visit–and a medium-sized shovel. I proceeded to scoop, spread, scoop, spread. It was pretty Zen, except for the delightful interruption of the tamping–Bam! Bam! Bam!
I got the worst hole filled and went in pursuit of more. At the end of the driveway, I wondered what all the brown stuff on the ground was. I looked up. No tree to shed any droppings. I looked to the side and saw a cleanly sliced tree trunk. The lawn service guys came! The owner came by about a month ago, took a look around, and said he’d be free after Thanksgiving. Not having heard from him, I figured he forgot about me. But, no, he must have just sent his guys and they went to town on the most dangerous trees hanging over the driveway.
Perilous trees: chopped.
This is what I’ve learned this year. When I can’t do one thing, just do another. There’s always something to be done. Do something. Do anything.