I woke up around 5:45, and realized I was hearing my son taking out the garbage. At first I was sure this must have meant he never went to bed. A bunch of guys were over last night, and they didn’t have school today, so whatever.

But when I went downstairs and asked him, he said, “Nope. I told you I’d wake up at normal time and take out the trash. So I did.”

He even took all the trash out of the old trash can to put in the new trash can.

Yea. We have new trash cans, a new trash service actually, and it’s been a lot of drama about this new refuse collection. To be honest, it’s been annoying. A new service so you need a new trash can, and they promise it’s cheaper, but it doesn’t seem like that. And oh, you have to choose which trash can you want based on size. If you don’t choose, the large bin will be assigned to you. Your bill will be dependent on what bin size you choose, but you should probably get the big one anyway because anything outside of the trash can is going to cost extra, and by the way no more bulk trash, but you can get something extra picked up 4 times a year. But wait, is that four times or four things. And by the way don’t put your trash can out until the April 1st weekly collection but we will deliver it way earlier than that.

As I drove away this morning, I laughed to myself about all the drama of these stupid trash cans.

I texted my neighbor when I came home a month or so ago and saw the trash can had been dropped off in my driveway. It was confusing because I had just too many trash cans.

“Are we supposed to put these out?”

She sent me a picture of the tag which I hadn’t really read. Use it April 1st. Not before.

Okay. I will follow directions. So I stored the new trash can until today.

If I hadn’t been rushing this morning I would have stopped to take a picture of my new trash can on its first day at work. I thought about the funny signs I could have it hold up.

When I got home after school, I started to take my new trash can back in the garage, noticing that my son had already put the old trash can away, leaving space for the new trash can. I wondered if the new giant trash can would fit where the old one fit. I wondered when I could stop thinking about this stupid new trash can.

Then I realized it was still full.

I texted my neighbor.

“Did they pick up your trash?”

And then like a movie montage, I figured it out.

It’s March 31. The old trash truck came and wouldn’t pick up the new bin. The new trash truck doesn’t come until next week, after April 1, so no. . . it is not yet time to stop thinking about this new trash can drama.

I took the dog for a walk and noticed other people had the new trash cans out. I’m glad to not be so alone in my embarrassment.

Lucky for me when I checked the mail, I got the bill for the new trash collection, and an included flyer that reminded me to Begin to use your new cart on Tuesday, April 1. Do not use your cart before then.

Good to know.

Good to know.

Yesterday my
stats
were
booming.

Probably because I
alluded to the big D.
You know

Divorce.

I want to thank my readers for all the kind comments,
assure you that I am okay.
It’s been years.
Also therapy
and writing.

I don’t miss my
bell.
I’ve already burned a lot of things.

Bridges are next,
maybe.
Later.
In my book,
I think.
Slices can’t take the weight of that much betrayal.

It will need a hardback,
and 200 pages or so.

“So this all started with a hug,” the doctor said just a couple of hours ago.

I laughed and said maybe I’d write a story called that: “It started with a hug.”

I had just told him that my 18 year old had lifted me in a bear hug on Sunday, and I had been in excruciating pain since an hour after that.

Before that, I had told the x-ray technicians the story.
Before that, I had told the LPN the story.
Before that, I had told the RN the story.
Before that, I had told my chiropractor the story. He popped my rib back in place, told me to ice it every hour, and to come back on Friday.

Way before that I had told my son, “If I have to go to the doctor because of this and tell them this embarrassing story I’m going to be very upset.”

The respiratory specialist getting my EKG ready actually loved the story. She said her brother still lifts up her mom all the time. We laughed about how teenagers are either ignoring you, or hugging you until you break.

The LPN said, “Well, you’re still young. When you are elderly, that will definitely crack a rib. It’s why we don’t like to perform CPR on the elderly. They say they want all of the things, but…”

Speaking of quotable quotes, the doctor said to me, very seriously, “I’m going to turn my brain off for this one, and just pretend it doesn’t make sense that you chest hurts after that hug. I mean, how strong is your son, do you think you have multiple fractures or something? It’s probably just some discomfort, but we’ll just do the full chest pain protocol.”

I couldn’t let it slide, so I smiled sweetly and said, “Oh good. That’s just what I like my doctors to say about their brains.”

Good news! My ribs aren’t cracked, I don’t have random pneumonia, and my heart was not attacking. It was an annoying 4 hours at the hospital, but at least I know that this is most likely just a muscle strain, taking its time to heal. Oh, and also the hospital has a stronger NSAID than advil, so I think that’s helping too.

Not so good news. . . I’m not sure the doctor will ever turn his brain back on.

“What time are we leaving?” That’s the question my son asked me last night.

“Well, maybe 7:00 but it will feel like 6:00.” I told him.

He rolled his eyes, “Not more of the ‘it will feel like stuff.’”

At dinner my dad had said, “It will be hard to leave early because waking up at 6:00 you lose an hour. But, traveling home will be nice because you pretty much gain an hour.”

I think this might be why calendar math is hard for me.

But, I figured out what he meant. 6:00 a.m. feels like 5:00 a.m., and that’s going to make a person sleepy. But 6:00 p.m. feels like 5:00 p.m., and that means more daylight for driving. Yay!

Before I went to bed I set up the coffee, of course. It was 11:00 p.m. Daylight savings hadn’t started yet. But I really couldn’t figure out what time I wanted to set the coffee to brew, with all the time travel that was about to happen while I was sleeping.

So I cheated and set the coffee clock ahead an hour. Suddenly 11:00 p.m. was 12:00 a.m. I wonder if the scientists know how easy it is to travel to the future.

I joked to my sister that now I was worried. What if I forgot that I already set the coffee maker clock ahead. In the morning I might accidentally set it ahead again! What if I kept forgetting! Soon my local time could match my son’s as he’s traveling in Spain!

So, you’re wondering, I’m sure, how this all worked out this morning.

Well, it’s 7:04 a.m. and it feels, somehow like it’s 5:30 a.m.

I hit snooze from 6:00 – 6:45, either because it felt like 5:00 – 5:45, or because I went to sleep at 11:30, which felt like 12:30. We will never know.

I don’t think we are leaving at 7:00, because it’s already past that. But, I guess if I wanted to I could just change the clocks back so we are on time. Now that I understand time travel.

So many clocks just automatically change now that that plan probably won’t work.

Years ago our kitchen clock was up so high, and my then-husband and I probably both had undiagnosed ADHD, that mostly we just waited daylight savings out with that clock. For months the clock would just be an hour off, but lucky for us, when the clocks changed again, we didn’t have to change that one. It was already right.

Well it’s 7:11 a.m., and I’ve had my coffee so it feels more like 6:45 now. I think we might be able to leave the house before 8:00, which will feel maybe like 7:00.

The trip to visit my daughter is 4 hours long. I wonder if today it will feel more like 3.

That’s how this Daylight Savings thing works, right?

My therapist insists I’m not lazy
But she hasn’t seen my corner cabinet

It’s been organized, I swear
But the Tupperware –
which is actually Chinese Food containers mostly –
It just falls wherever it wants,
also do you expect me to lift the smaller ones to put the larger ones underneath
every
time?

It’s a Lazy Susan cabinet
which what the heck
lazy is in it’s name
I wonder what Susan’s therapist thinks about that

This morning
every morning
when I walked into the kitchen, I saw
Lazy Susan
had swung open
Not only does she drop my lids into her abyss
She also can’t stay closed to save her life

Or maybe I didn’t close her last night

And I wondered if my cabinet is trying to teach me something
like patience
or patience adjacent
like perseverance
determination
or maybe not to keep all the Chinese Food leftover containers
or maybe to stop overthinking, you’re thinking

Don’t get me started on my bottom drawer
The baking drawer
Where cocoa powder spilled
I think a year ago
Luckily, I don’t have time for baking anymore

Years ago when I was a coach, a first-grade teacher told me she loved moving to first grade from the upper grades once her own kids were older.

She had an eloquent way of explaining it, and I don’t want to misquote her… but it had something to do with how primary kids still show you how they love you and need you and think you’re great.

Teenagers…well… not so much.

Living by myself with my two amazing teenagers is something.

Wow.

Thank goodness I go to school every day with 6,7 and 8 year olds who draw me pictures, want me to tell them stories, and to listen to all the parts of their day. My students more often than not think I have the right answer. They even laugh at my jokes and love my songs!

I’ll say it again, every day 19 kids laugh at my jokes, love my songs, and learn from the things I teach them.

And then I go home.

If you ever need to knock someone’s self-worth, self-confidence, self-esteem down several pegs, I recommend having them become a single-mom to a few teenage boys.

Most days I’m reminded in multiple ways from a few of my most favorite people, that I’m not funny, not cool, not smart, not right, and that in fact, I’m ruining their otherwise fine day in some way.

I’d love to pivot here and tell you about the good parts to. I’d love to tell you how when we had our recent power outage those very same teenage boys helped change smoke detector batteries, find flashlights and take the dog out in the dark-no-street-lights-no-porch-lights-no-house-lights night. But, this is no place to write about the nice times.

Instead, I’ll have you imagine that power outage, and how one of the only flashlights I could find was my old headlamp. So I wore it around the house, as I tried to make sure we were doing all the things we needed to do, and taking care of all the things we needed to take care of.

“Why are you acting so crazy about this?” One teenager kept asking me.

“It’s not that deep.” I was reminded.

And my favorite…

“Why do you have that on your head? You look like a f!@#ing angler fish.”