That's right, the squirrel is looking for me and you know why. You'll need to excuse me now while I go and try to find what's left of my mind.
I like to think my life is somewhat organized. There are calendars and clocks in every room, and the daily planner I keep in my purse is usually promptly filled in every time a new appointment comes up.
That's why the past few days have been so baffling.
Breakfast and lunch at our house are hit and miss, except for those eye-opening and oftentimes hilarious Sunday morning breakfasts. Supper is always a sit-down affair, with the dog sprawled in the "drop zone" between those humans willing to slip her some table scraps. Sarah Jane is awfully partial to mashed potatoes, and we can't figure out when that happened.
Most of us have seen dogs who rip through meat like there's no tomorrow, but this dog has a tummy for taters. We came up with the term "potato pan" and those two words will send her into a frenzy. She must have the potato pan and she'll jump through hoops to get it.
The other night I noticed my favorite big spoon was missing. After checking everyone's alibi, we turned our collective attention to the yellow Lab waiting impatiently in the drop zone. I used another spoon, and supper went on. Afterward, there was an incident. Before she could get the potato pan, one of the guys demanded that the dog give up the missing spoon. Sarah was about to go into a frenzy, so she got her pan and proceeded to clean it. While she was busy, the canine interrogator got down on the floor to look beneath appliances to see if the spoon got pushed underneath one of them.
None of us noticed that Sarah was finished and had turned her attention to the human on her level. By the time we saw what she intended to do it was too late to get out of her path, and our son got head-butted with enough force to rock him back into the cabinets. But hey, he found the spoon.
After supper we all go our separate ways. By that time I've met my work obligations, yet I check the planner in case I missed something. This week I noticed an Avon meeting and a gathering of the Red Hat ladies. Wednesday was going to be busy.
Just fifteen minutes before the scheduled start of the Avon get- together I pulled into the restaurant parking lot and noticed-- nothing. Not a car, a bike or a truck was parked in the lot, so I got out my planner. Ah, yes. The meeting is for next Wednesday. That left the Red Hatters at noon so I rearranged things and went about my business.
At fifteen minutes before noon I went to meet my friends in red and purple. The first mistake was walking into the wrong building, which was easy enough to correct. The next mistake was getting the wrong day; I was off by one. I checked my schedule again but it firmly states Wednesday which means I wrote the date down wrong. If I hadn't, wouldn't the other gals be there? Yeah, I thought so too.
If I didn't know better, I'd swear I was the one who got head-butted by the dog the other night. I'm afraid to think there might be another explanation.
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