Today is a day of many To-Do List items.
First thing is getting the kid off to college. He is all packed, everything is right near
the door, and he is ready to go. He was
ready to go mentally about a week ago, but he is physically ready today. We have a plan: If we can get out of the house by 7:45 a.m.,
we'll stop at Dunkin Donuts.
Cue the thunder storm and the pounding rain.
The storm is a fast mover, and we start loading the car
while it is still drizzling out.
Eventually we get everything loaded, with nary a whisper of room left
for anything else, and the skies open up again just as we close the
hatchback. Our departure time is
7:45. Perfect.
We hit Dunkins, which is about a half mile from the
house. Son realizes he forgot to pack
nail clippers. Back to the house we go,
only I can't pull into the driveway because if I do, I won't be able to back
out again as I cannot see a blasted thing except bags and gear. As soon as the kid returns to the car with
the clippers, it starts to rain again.
By the time we reach the highway, it is coming down in buckets.
We drive in and out of several storms, but we also drive
through several completely dry patches, as if the rain we've had for hours
simply forgot to fall here. Despite our
slow pace so we can avoid several hydroplaning situations, we arrive before the
9:00 check-in starts. Surprisingly
enough, they are ready for us, and we move to a prime spot along the building.
We are given fifteen minutes to unload, and we clear the car
as efficiently as we packed it. It's not
too hard -- the dorm room is on the bottom floor. I don't even break a sweat despite humidity
levels of about 95%. The car is empty by
8:49, and I move it to the nearby field house parking lot for an easy escape
when the time comes. Son's roommate
arrives, so we help him unload, too.
Then son's girlfriend arrives.
After quick introductions with her parents, we unload their car, too,
into a nearby brick building. The trek
is a little more strenuous, up to the third floor which is really like climbing
four full sets of stairs while carrying gear.
Sweat breaks out in places I didn't even know sweated, but we get her
moved in within the fifteen minute time allotment.
I extricate myself reasonably early and start driving
south. As soon as I hit the highway, the
rain begins again. And again. And again after that. Three separate waves of rain with the
occasional break of dry-as-a-bone asphalt. I can actually see where one storm
stops behind me and another begins in front of me while cruising through a
pocket of vacuous air space.
I decide to hit a few stores on the way home for things that
I need. As I am walking through the
parking lot to store #1, it starts to sprinkle.
By the time I exit store #1, I just make it to the car when it starts to
pelt water all over again.
My next stop is the mall.
I have some serious shopping and some window shopping to do, so I decide
to hit the top floor first and then hit the bottom floor. This is a great plan until I get to the
middle. The store I need in the middle
of the mall requires me to go back upstairs.
No problem. There are escalators
inside. I need some work clothes, which
I have been putting off all summer, and, since school starts tomorrow, I should
probably see what I can find.
What I find to try on are about twenty shirts, a skirt, and
two dresses. Now here's where I really
hate myself and the entire garment industry because shopping for clothes surely
must be some kind of subversive torture perpetrated against women. Every store sizes their clothing differently,
and sometimes even the same garment in a different color is not necessarily a
slam-dunk in the same size.
While in the dressing room, I hear a roar that sounds an
awful lot like a tornado or a freight train or maybe just the end of the
world. This thought does not please me
as I wonder if the clothing I spent thirty minutes picking out is going to be
sucked out of a hole when the ceiling opens up.
I also have the thought that I am half naked, and to make matters worse
should the roof actually collapse on me, I am wearing a frumpy, old, graying
Bali bra.
Goddamnit! It's the
end of the world as we know it, and I'm not even wearing my best undies. I hate when my mother is right. So when the rescuers arrive, as surely they
will by the sound of it, I will not only be mostly unclothed, I'll be wearing
crappy undergarments.
Pissah. With my luck
my damn picture will make the news.
After about six minutes of absolute ear-boggling noise, the
rain abates, and I am able to dump most of what I brought in with me and
retreat to the register with four shirts and a dress. Some of the shirts I try on are rayon (no
freaking way - that stuff shrinks like crazy), some have humungous armholes (so
even the students can see my bogus Bali bra, apparently), the skirt has a weird
slit in it that was sewn shut at the bottom, giving it and me a bulbous
appearance, and no matter how valiantly I fight one of the dresses, the zipper
isn't long enough and the belt is attached to the fabric so even one of my
thighs can't slip in.
On the way home I plan to visit a friend. I take out my phone, dial her number, and
start walking to my car, which I parked way, way, waaaaay out yonder so I can
walk more for exercise.
What happens as soon as I hear the phone ring on her end? It starts to rain, big fat droopy globs of
rainwater, all over me and my phone and my bag of new clothes, as if the rain is daring me to
get into my car. The moment I close the
door, all hell breaks loose and the rain is coming so fast that I am relieved I parked on higher ground.
In the scheme of things, it is a good day. I manage to be in my car (or a dressing room)
during the worst of the weather and out of my car in between the many fronts
that move through. I'm doing some
cleaning and To-Do List stuff before school starts tomorrow. School starts … hey, school starts
tomorrow. Have I finished getting
organized? No. Do I have a plan for the
week? No. Am I remotely ready?
Well, I did buy some new shirts and a brand new dress, and I
did manage to restore the empty nest.
I guess that means I'm ready.
