First, a note that due to an unfortunate hacking incident this week, there will be no Wednesday Woo-Hoo. I am just too far behind on life and you don't need more woo-hoo from me, you need more entertainment! My ratio is getting skewed. By now, you're probably reading those things going, "Blah, blah, blah - yah, yah, yadda - we know... you're frickin' awesome - AGAIN, Cindy, we know all about the awards and features already. Sheesh!"
And I agree. I'm sick of my own woo-hooiness. Therefore, any woo-hoos will be saved for next week and I think my spam problem is fixed. Please let me know if any of you receive spam from me, my blog, or my e-mail. Oh, and please don't make me cry like that one guy did. People can be so mean! I have feelings, here, you know.
So, let me get back to stark reality here. Last Wednesday morning was a rough one. I was up very late working on my computer, like 2 a.m. late, and my husband's alarm goes off around 4:30 a.m. I have to roust him out of bed almost every day and that day, I couldn't roust him because I myself apparently did not become rousted by the alarm either. My husband missed his carpool and had to drive himself and was late for work.
Then my daughter had cheer practice at 7 a.m. You heard me right. We live way out of town and have to leave at 6:30 a.m. to get her there early. She needs to get up at 5:00 to get ready. I had gotten up and made sure she was up to get ready and then I laid back down. I honestly was so tired, I felt like I had a hangover. At least there was no tiger in the bathroom, but seriously, that's about how tired I felt - as though I had tied a good one on the night before.
I overslept by about five minutes and usually my daughter is in my face if I am not ready to go. Not that day! She had gone back to bed and wasn't even ready. We both frantically grabbed things. She got ready in the car on the way to town and I didn't brush my hair or teeth and hadn't put on a bra. I just threw a jacket over the shirt I had slept in and we ran out the door. I couldn't wait to get back home and go back to bed.
I was literally a few blocks from my destination when I glanced in my rear view mirror. I saw this:
At first glance, I thought, "Uh-oh, emergency lights! I'd better get out of the way." Then I realized it wasn't an ambulance, but a police cruiser, a.k.a. "The PoPo." Then I realized he didn't need me to get out of the way for an emergency, he needed me to pull over so he could speak to me about - well, something.
I hadn't been pulled over in many, many, many years and I had kind of forgotten what the protocol was. I took my seat belt off and prepared to get out and greet him and then realized I wasn't supposed to do that. So then my seat belt was off and I was afraid I'd get a ticket for that, even though I had it on to begin with. I was scared that if he saw me put it back on, he'd think I was just now putting it on. I left it off and said a little prayer.
He walked up (finally) and said, "Do you know why I pulled you over?" I really didn't, but I was hoping I had a tail light out. "I really don't," I sheepishly replied. "Was I speeding?"
He pointed behind him, quite agitated, and spat a little too loudly, "Didn't you see me back there?"
I hadn't. Not at all. I can't lie, so I said, "No, I'm sorry, I really didn't."
"Running late for something?" he asked.
"Yes, my daughter has to be at cheer practice at 7:00 and we overslept. How fast was I going?"
"Forty-two in a thirty. Did you know that was a thirty mile an hour zone?"
"No, I sure didn't," I honestly replied.
"License and proof of insurance and I'll write you a warning," he said.
I swear, on any normal day, my license would be right on top, but noooo. I had to dig and dig and finally take all of my cards out to find it and my daughter had trouble finding the insurance card in the glove box. Of all days! I really must get more organized. "I'm going to jail..." I thought.
I was proud of myself for not shaking uncontrollably, crying like I did the first time I got pulled over at 17 years old, or cursing. Wow, I really had matured over the years! I was so proud...
I had come to the realization while he was doing his thing that I looked like a hot mess. Good lord, I not only felt hung over, I looked hung over! No makeup, not bathed, and no bra! Yes, I have ample boobage, but unbridled melons are not a pretty sight at 42 unless I'm naked, which I wasn't, so that wasn't going to help me. I pulled the jacket tightly closed and hoped he wouldn't make me stand up. Thankfully, he didn't.
He handed me - nothing. He started to walk away with a kind word and warning to slow it down and I said, "Aren't you going to give me a copy of the warning?"
He said, "No, not unless you want one."
I said, "Well, I'm a great record keeper, but if you say I don't need one, just keep it!" I had always received a copy of my warnings/tickets. Granted, there haven't been many. My driving record is pretty good. I even get those special thingies from my insurance saying how great of a driver I am, accident and ticket free and all. But... there's always a but, now isn't there?
Ever since we moved to the middle of nowhere from the middle of somewhere two years ago, I haven't felt "under the law." I know, it sounds strange, but we are so far in the boonies that I honestly felt a little above-the-law-Deliverance-ignorance going on. When we lived in somewhere, I followed every law of driving to the letter! All except for driving with my knees sometimes, which is a special skill I possess.
Suddenly, I didn't feel like wearing my seat belt all the time anymore. I didn't feel like paying attention to speed limits. I felt free! I hadn't been bothered by the cops either -- until last Wednesday when my reign of lackadaisical behavior came to a screeching halt. Dang you, reality! How dare you screw up my fantasy?
So, back to miss goody-two-shoes I go! Seat belt always in place. Speed limit closely watched (thirty miles an hour ought to be illegal - sooooo slow), and looking out for the PoPo. I mean, I have a reputation to uphold. I'm a frickin' famous blogger, mister badge! Oh, how I make myself LOL... My fame didn't save my daughter either. She had to run laps for being late to cheer practice.
This Wednesday, I want a do-over!
When was the last time you got slapped on the wrist by the PoPo and how did you react?